


the moment between breath

by owedbetter



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I don't work for FOX so I don't know how S3 is going to end., Mutual Pining, Oh God... so much smut... I'm going straight to hell., Presumably Post-Pierce, Smut, Tarot, We're going with a lot of assumptions here.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-19 19:54:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 40,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14244582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owedbetter/pseuds/owedbetter
Summary: “Don’t be afraid of what it is you desire, Chloe Decker.”Chloe gets her tarot cards read and she faces the uncomfortable truths she's been trying to deny.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to repost this first chapter because I made some changes to the initial draft. I wasn't too thrilled with how it turned out the first time around so here's a new and improved one!
> 
> This fic was born from bingewatching all episodes of Lucifer so far in about four days and a love of tarot card reading. Hope you all enjoy it!

_"love  
_ _can only be described in the way it is lived—_

_in parts—_

_hoping that the whole makes sense_  
_even though we know_  
_none of the pieces do.”_

Excerpt from “[Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LTjArdM7F4)” by Jared Singer

 

* * *

  

_Come one, come all! Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages…_

_Here is where nothing is ever as it seems, where all your dreams can come true…_

Chloe groaned as she suffered through the sight of it all. The long queues of people waiting hours upon hours for three minutes of forgettable glee—if she wanted that kind of tedious disappointment, she’d go on another date with some basic guy on Tinder who thought “you’re smile is enchanting” is a decent way to chat her up.

An old saying came to mind when it came to places like this— _panem et circenses._ Bread and circuses—an offering of deformity, of strangeness, of authenticity as something _other_. Places like this, she thought, reminded her of slaughterhouses. Cheap thrills for cheap laughter, masking the sounds of the haunted screams in the night of those who sacrificed dignity for the sake of a paycheck.

Just like she did once.

It was the promise of every land of lies, such as this, all secrets and likes and twinkling, artificial flickers and tricks that make you believe in magic for a second before it takes your faith for fodder. It’s all smoke and mirrors here, façades that promised dreams while they hid nightmares in your pockets, in your shadows—beneath all the paints and the lights.

It was everything Chloe Decker hated about acting. No, that wasn’t it—some actors were true to the craft and performance was an art. No, it was something else. She hated what was false and pretended to be otherwise. She liked for things to make sense.

Yet, her partner for this mission was a strange dichotomy of both and that always puzzled her. He was all expensive, three-piece suits, hyperbole and metaphors, decadence and sex on legs—he was Lucifer Morningstar and he was a man who was only ever what he said he was and for that truth, she was grateful.

At the very least, he was a story that she could depend on. For the most part.

Still, Chloe liked for things to be _real_. Art always said and gave something real and shit like this, shit like ‘ _Hot Tub High School_ ’—that wasn’t art. Art always had some part of it ring true and after all the lies she’s had to deal with—namely with Pierce and his using her for his own goddamn gain—quite frankly, she’s has had her fill of falsities for the next lifetime or so.

She pouted and tried to hide her disdain. She kept her arms crossed against her chest and head held high, scouring the vicinities and trying to observe for abnormalities.

Business, as ever.

Her new lieutenant had called this case closed. The trapeze artist – a young Filipina named Cristel Pangan – had an unfortunate accident while rehearsing for a performance. But as forensics had scoped out that there was a chance that part of the girl’s equipment had been tampered with and damaged. There was no concrete evidence to prove as such and, as this was the circus’ last day as they were due to travel to Austin in a few days, they were on a time crunch.

There was something about this case that drew her to it. Part of her would not let the curiosity go and, for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why. Chloe kept asking questions, kept poking and prodding, and while she was here—she could feel it in her gut that she was right.

Hence, the undercover mission with Lucifer in the first place. If he could needle out a confession from someone—she had her suspicions that someone from Cristel’s family had done it as the girl’s body had displayed signs of parental abuse and since this was a family-owned circus, she had her hunches—then she knew she would be right. She just had to ask the right questions, poke at the right bear…

“Come now, Detective! You’re undercover at a fair—at least _pretend_ to enjoy yourself,” he said, breaking her out of her trance.

“Huh, what?”

Of course, he found himself right at home in a place like this. His dark, almost definitely bespoke suit was the same colour of aged red wine. He was as sleek and chic as the words that left his honeyed tongue and yet, atop his head, was a ridiculous headband that had bright red firework-like contraptions made of synthetic fur and red fairy lights.

It was both hideous but when he wore it, oddly adorable.

The way he grinned like a cat that got the cream didn’t help that picture. Try as she might to hide the smile, he didn’t miss the small twitch of her lips. Still, she was as dedicated to her work as ever and she looped her arm around his and squeezed his arm much too hard, her nails digging into the expensive cloth and into his flesh. Lucifer’s steps faltered at the pressure and he frowned his displeasure.

“Well, _honey_ —” she said, through a forced grin. “— _You_ can enjoy the fair enough for the both of us while I focus on the case. So maybe quiet it down with the whole _detective_ thing?”

“Ah, yes, how careless of me, my darling,” he said, recovering double quick. With the tip of his finger, he stroked her jawline quickly and tapped her on the nose. He quirked his brows and smirked. “My apologies.”

Immediately, she knew that that had been his plan all along. He affectionately rested his hand against the back of hers that was holding on to the curve of his elbow. Chloe rolled her eyes.

“You could really stand to loosen up a bit, though,” said the Devil himself. He leaned toward her—just by her ear that she could feel the warmth of his breath by the skin of her neck. “I, personally, know _several_ ways I can help with that particular predicament.”

“ _Lucifer,_ ” she said by way of answering, shooting him daggers for eyes. It was his turn to roll his eyes but there was an unmistakable mischief to the way he did it.

“Very well, my love,” he replied, straightening up his posture and walking with her again.

The way he called her these names with such ease made her uneasy. After all, even when they were undercover, he could never get into any other character but the one he chose for himself.

Lucifer never lied—especially not to her. She believed that and would never doubt it. But in times like this, when he called her things like that, it made her think. It made her ask questions she wasn’t too sure she wanted to know the answers to. She felt something sink in her gut and she swallowed.

“You’re making me regret the whole undercover thing,” she muttered.

“But _honey_ , you’re the one who reminded me of it,” he said with far, far too much glee in his voice. “Just a regular couple on a regular, normal date night at a fair! How romantic. Perhaps they even have a good old Tunnel of Love! Shall we have a go?”

She tried desperately not to read too much into how easy it was for him to say that when she knew that he hated false façades almost as much as she did. And this was far too easy for him to be anything than a lie and when he called her these names, it felt far too goo—

‘ _No, Decker. Shake it off. Don’t go there,_ ’ she told herself. ‘ _Not again._ ’

Part of her wanted to ask herself what she meant by that but there was no time. They were here on a case not on a date. This was _not_ a date.

“We’re not here to go on rides, Lucifer. We’re here to talk to employees about the dead trapeze artist,” she told him. “ _Focus._ ”

“Copy that,” he acquiesced. “ _Sweetheart._ ”

Chloe rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Why can’t we be brother and sister for a change?” she asked. Out of nowhere, really, but the question came from her lips anyway.

He scoffed and looked at her, appalled—all wide eyes, brows knit, and mouth agape.

“For one thing, my dear, the sexual tension between us is far much too palpable that your being _my_ _sister_ or any sort of relative is simply unacceptable,” he rounded off, gesturing all the while. “I may look like your—well, not a regular one, surely, more a… particularly impressive cisgender white male human, yes, but _never_ presume to think that I would ever abide by _that_ part of their culture.”

Chloe laughed, half covering her face with her free hand, shoulders shaking. Even Lucifer, though still somewhat aghast with her suggestion of something so distasteful to say the least, could not help his dark eyes from softening at the sight of her happy.

Especially because she laughed so openly and not just with her face but with her whole body—Chloe laughed with an open mouth, a wide grin, and shaking shoulders. When she covered her mouth with her hand, it meant she was trying to hold it back from turning into a cackle, because sometimes it did. And he remembered that sometimes, she’d confessed that she didn’t like the way that it made her sound like the Wicked Witch of the West like Dan had jokingly told her once.

Lucifer liked making her laugh like that—unrestrained and wholly. The sound and the sight of it was enough to make him sing.

“Even the Devil has hard passes and relations with siblings is one of them. On top of the list, actually, now that I think about it,” he concluded, giving her a look that would normally have people throwing themselves at him but she was still so unaffected.

“That really wasn’t what I was getting at,” she said, “You have a lot of issues with your siblings, don’t you?”

“Yes, well—so would _you_ if you were cast out of Heaven and your family just… _watched._ Though I suppose a fair few went down with me—that’s on me.”

“You’re doing fine with Amenadiel,” she pointed out.

“That is… that’s different,” he argued. “That’s an affection born of forced proximity. It doesn’t count.”

“Well, he stayed,” she said. “And what about your _other_ siblings? You never talk about them.”

“Well, they’re far too enraptured with dear old _Dad_ to ever want to sully themselves with the likes of me. Case in point, _Amenadiel._ ”

“Really? _None_ of your other siblings have ever come to visit you or looked into how you were doing?” she asked.

Lucifer considered her and felt a tightening in his chest, in his back. As if there were some foreign, invisible pressure that pressed against him on all sides. This was not a line of questioning that he had prepared himself for and, in the back of his mind, he wondered what prompted this on from the detective. For it was through this slippery slope that unwanted memories came passing through.

He thought of Uriel and immediately rejected the direction this train of consciousness was going.

He thought of his other siblings—hundreds of them, really, and how he still knew them all by name. Their faces, forever etched into his memory, and how they’d looked up to him then.

Light Bearer, he was. An Archangel. The bringer of the dawn—of hope, of light.

This, all part of a life he left behind and the ones who’d followed him into Hell were not siblings that delighted in the sharing of his fate. Granted, he was the only Archangel who was banished while the rest of the others were lesser angels who were reduced to become the first demons. Mazikeen, for example, was a demon from and of Hell and so held no grudge against him in that particular regard. She had never known the likes of true, celestial Heaven. But there were demons there that did not serve him out of loyalty.

He knew those brothers and sisters just the same too.

Still, he’d become so accustomed to the darkness, to the filth, to the sweet, saccharine sins of the flesh that he’d somehow forgotten how it was to be with someone as pure, as light, and as brilliant as the detective herself.

Lucifer swallowed and smiled darkly, depth brewing in his eyes but he felt his body tighten.

“Angels aren’t the type of brothers and sisters who do house calls, darling. Not without Father’s permission, of course.”

“Don’t you miss them?” she pressed.

“Well, what about _you_!” he exclaimed, boisterous and flamboyant as ever, that several people turned to look at them that Chloe felt the need to hide her face with her hand, pretending to tuck her loose hair behind her ear.

He continued, “You’re the only person I’ve ever known who seems to have a distinct displeasure at being at a place so devilishly delightful! Oh, the con artists and thieves, the hustlers and fakes—shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings! Devil’s playground, really.”

“It’s nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Forget I asked.”

“Oh come now, Detective,” he said. “I gave up some of my demons, as it were. It’s only fair if you share.”

“Stop,” she said. “I just hate fairs, let’s leave it at that. Carnivals. The whole thing.”

“Not as much as P.T. Barnum does, I assure you,” he said.

Chloe turned to look at him with a smirk, a cocked head, and a raised brow—the universal, disbelieving expression that said: ‘ _Really?_ ’

“Oh, yes,” he answered. “Tortured for eternity by the animals he mistreated in front of an audience that just cheers it on. One of my finer achievements in poetic irony, if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t like it when… when things aren’t what seem.”

“Oh,” he said, sombre. He knew what he meant and he felt a rage boil within him, liquid wrath in his veins bubbling as he remembered Cain. He stiffened beside her and she noticed as she quickly looked up at him.

“And I don’t like clowns,” she added, offering a small smile. “They kind of give me the creeps.”

“Really, Det—” he started but she squeezed at his arm with her nails again and the rest of his sentence came out as, “ _Darling._ ” She released him and smiled, more relaxed now.

Lucifer continued, “Not to worry, sweetheart, I’ll be sure to take note of that hard pass off of the list of kinks for the future.”

“Kinks for the _futu—?!_ ”

“Oh look, candied apples!” he said, walking towards the cart that sold them with a glee in his grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“ _Lucifer!_ ” she hissed after him and groaned when he simply went on his way.

Fine.

Both their questions had reached a place that, she figured, they both needed a breather away from. Still, she now found that she was hugging her jacket tighter against her.

“He’s a right piece of work, your friend,” said a small, unfamiliar female voice behind her. English accent, much like the Devil himself.

“Tell me about it,” Chloe muttered without thinking.

“I could, actually,” she said. “If you care to have your cards read?”

“What?” said the detective as she spun around and saw that she was right by a small tent.

Chloe did a double take as she hadn’t noticed this table that she was apparently standing next to. The woman manning the tiny tent looked unfazed, offering an easy, tight-lipped smile. She wore a sheer, soft pink kimono adorned with flowers over a simple, plain purple dress. No appropriating headscarves or tattoos, fake black teeth, or hideous moles. The strange woman was beautiful, even Chloe had to admit, with something about her that made her want to know more.

In front of the stranger was a simple table that had a dark blue cloth laid across it. The cloth was embroidered with intricate patterns that mimicked constellations, she assumed, for she did not recognise any of them but she knew what the design meant to inspire.

Chloe could have sworn that that table wasn’t there before just a second ago. She was a homicide detective, for God’s sake. She would have noticed. But still, inexplicably, there it was.

“Oh, sorry. I, uh—” she started, but the woman cut her off.

“Business is slow today,” she said, bringing up a set of large tarot cards to her hand. Lined with gold all over and with a simple gold back, the cards shone as if they were made of genuine starlight in her hands. She started knocking at the cards from every side. “First spread’s on the house?”

The woman set the cards atop the table before her expectantly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Chloe started. “No offence but I, uh—don’t want to waste your time. I… don’t really believe in the whole… prediction, divination, Harry Potter thing so, no thank you.”

The woman chuckled and wrinkled her little retroussé nose in a way that reminded Chloe of Samantha from Bewitched.

“First of all, Joanne didn’t invent divination,” said the mysterious tarot woman, smirking. “Second of all, my cards don’t tell the future and I won’t presume to know yours. Mine simply tell you things you may need to know.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Your friend over there seems a bit preoccupied,” said the woman and Chloe turned to see that Lucifer was busy with a cotton candy vendor who seemed to be not turning out as much product as he could. Chloe sighed as the woman said, “Might as well, don’t you think?”

“You’re not… dressed like most fortune tellers are. No offense,” she said, sitting in the chair that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

Her attention was all over the place, it seemed, or there was a shroud of doubt that followed her—like a shadow. Chloe found herself second-guessing everything, questioning anything. Strange. And yet, there was a simple, wooden stool that she could have sworn wasn’t there just a split second ago. But she found herself intrigued anyway; curiosity piqued somehow—a need to know more pulling at her from somewhere deep.

“Expecting a crystal ball and some burning sage? A phony, probably offensive, stereotypical accent?” said the woman with a smile.

The woman had short dark hair that framed her heart-shaped face with big eyes that sparkled with a familiar mischief. By the woman’s ear was a copper ear cuff in the shape of a wing that protruded by the upper part while small stars dangled by the bottom of it. She had dimples on her cheek hers were dark eyes that, like Lucifer’s, were not distant and drowning. They were wide and warm and kind. Chloe found herself transfixed and curious and curiouser.

The woman continued, “For a start, I’m not a fortune teller. That’s not what tarot’s for, not really. I don’t read cards to tell your fortune. I simply… deliver wisdom that you may need to know if it rings true for you.”

“Wisdom from who? Or what?”

“From whoever or whatever it is that you believe in,” the stranger said. “Be it the stars, the universe, capital G God… they’re all the same thing. And they’re always listening.”

She raised her brows at that and considered. Teeth biting her bottom lip, Chloe considered it while the woman only held her gaze. There was an intensity there that looked familiar though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Okay, sure,” Chloe found herself answering. “Why not?”

This woman was certainly another sham, she thought, and yet, the detective wanted to see where the story would lead. It was that feeling you get when you’re reading a book and you simply could not stop until you finished reading until the end; the impulse to keep flipping pages, impossible to resist.

The woman gave her instructions.

“Take the cards,” she said. “Shuffle the deck and while you do, ask the cards: _what is it you wish for me to know?_ ”

Chloe took the cards in her hands and, immediately, it already felt like it was tingling against her skin. She felt the hair of her neck rise up and a rush up her spine. She coughed as if to hide it but she shuffled the cards, as instructed, while the tarot reader spoke.

“Let the question sink into your soul and flow through your heart. Let it envelop you in its embrace and then, you feel certain cards pulling at you, you choose three cards, face down. Don’t flip them over and don’t think about it too much, just lay them out as one, two, and three. Choose whatever feels right.”

“What do you mean?” Chloe asked as she shuffled.

“You’ll know it when you feel it.”

It was unnerving that this short, probably British woman was giving her something to do and here she was… actually doing it as if she believed in this sort of thing, when she didn’t. Chloe hated places like this and tricks like this. For all she knew, there could be a thief by her back with quick fingers who was trying to pull a fast one and reach for her wallet. Or worse, her gun.

“This… it feels silly,” said Chloe, but she was still shuffling.

“You’ll find most things do when you think about it,” said the woman simply, patient as she smiled. “Tarot spreads are a lot like love, you see.”

“How?”

“Love doesn’t make sense until you give it meaning – and each part tells a story that will only ever make sense to you.”

“I… I don’t get it,” said the detective as she laid down cards as the woman said to do.

“You will,” she said, her lips turning into a smirk, making her dimple burrow into her cheeks.

Chloe closed her eyes as she held the cards in her hands, shuffling as she did so, and she asked them the question. Part of her, for some reason, felt as if the question were some kind of prayer.

“Take your time,” said the woman. “ _Focus._ ”

As she shuffled the cards, she could feel her heart beat against her chest and it rang in her ears. The noise around her – the screaming from the rides, the ruckus from the game booths – faded slowly and she felt as if she were floating and there was nothing else but her, the woman, and the cards in her hands.

‘ _What do I need to know?_ ’ she asked the cards. And though she might never admit it, part of her kind of started to believe in it.

One, two, three went the chosen cards when she felt the back of them pull against her touch. Chloe set the deck back down where she got it and exhaled. She shrugged her shoulders and grimaced as she looked at the spread, the cards looking like one-dimensional bars of gold.

“There you go,” she said. “I think… I hope I did that right.”

“You did great,” said the woman. “You first card speaks from your past.”

She waved a hand over the first card that Chloe put down and when her hand moved, the card showed a watercolour painting of a building burning and crumbling to the ground. The name of the card faced the woman and before Chloe could read it, the woman declared its name.

“The Tower, Reversed… interesting,” she said, tilting her head as if deep in thought. She hummed and Chloe tilted her head just the same and pressed on.

“Why—what is _that_ supposed to mean?” she asked, her hands atop her lap, leaning forward. Wide eyed, she listened with bated breath.

“The Tower is a card of chaos and destruction, you see,” said the woman. Chloe looked at her and the two women’s eyes met and never faltered away. The blonde felt as though she might implode, her chest suddenly tight at the description she was given. This was a bad idea—and yet, she kept wanting to know more.

“It suggests that there was something you held dear and true that was… very recently called into question. You had to face some difficult truths that—well, made you question some things you didn’t want to question. The Tower is often dreaded in readings when upright but reversed, like yours is… the card suggests a survival. That the destruction of this… this thing… whatever it was that you used to believe in was necessary to make you better. And while it hurt that you’ve recently gotten through some hard times, you’ve survived it.”

Chloe looked at the drawing and instantly thought of what had happened with Pierce. His face flashed in her minds eye and her hands turned to fists atop her lap.

Fierce betrayal boiled through her veins then and rage rose up her throat like hot bile as she remembered it again and tried to shake off. She stared at it and stared at it, and then she sighed.

“You got all that from a card?” she said with forced levity, a smile that felt false and foreign to her lips.

The tarot woman looked at her, an apology in her gaze for the blunt nature of the reading, but she kept going. The woman reached for the card and by the edge of it, she pulled it toward her to read the art.

She narrowed her eyes and said, “But it also says… that you’re… afraid of change.”

“Afraid of _change?_ ” Chloe repeated.

“You may have been… reluctant to accept a transformation in your life for fear that it will bring disaster. You may feel yourself comfortable in your life but there’s change that’s trying to happen, that’s been holding on, waiting and as asking for you to let it in,” said the woman, a knowing smile on her face. “A new situation—accepting a development in a relationship, perhaps.”

An image of Lucifer flashed through her mind’s eye _—the memory of his forehead against hers, the feeling of the bridge of his nose just against her own, his hand against her cheek and her hand in his hair, his lips just a breath away from a kiss, and how the light seemed to pour out of him._

_There, too, was the taste of his soft lips against hers, the sweet sound of how he’d whispered ‘Detective’ before she kissed him again. The smell of the ocean wafted its way to her memory again and the echo of crashing waves reverberated throughout her memory._

Chloe swallowed and blinked, mouth suddenly dry.

“Huh,” she said simply. A beat later as the woman only smiled, a bit infuriating now for her stare gave her the impression that it meant to say ‘ _I know something you don’t know_ ’. She licked her lips and said, “Uh—what’s the second card say?”

“Your second card speaks from your present.”

The woman waved her hand atop the gold and before her was a creature drenched in red, all Cheshire grin, with bright white wings on his back and chains at his hands and feet.

“Of course it is,” said Chloe, biting back a laugh.

“The Devil,” said the woman, grinning.

“I think I already know what this one’s got to say,” said the detective, her tone laced with sarcasm.

“It’s interesting, actually, as it speaks to the previous card,” said the reader.

“That makes sense, my Devil goes with chaos and destruction, all right,” she joked.

“No, no. It’s not that,” said the woman. “You and many others may read it as such and I don’t blame you. Not really. The Devil certainly does get a bad rep for things that are not _always_ his fault. But this actually speaks more of the Devil within…”

It flashed in her mind’s eye just as soon as the woman spoke it.

_Them on Lucifer’s couch at his penthouse with her on top of him, and the feeling of his warm chest against her hands that felt far, far too real. There were his hands in her hair, on her hips. His heated, gentle kiss that consumed, that devoured, that gave and gave and gave._

A lump formed in her throat and all she could do was blink, and blink again.

“You see, your card suggests that you’re feeling stuck and chained to an endless loop – a will they, won’t they – and that this situation may leave you feeling powerless.” Chloe said nothing. “And of course, the Devil speaks of desire.”

“He sure does,” said the detective, smiling as she said it and nodding as if enjoying a private joke.

“And he invites you to be _unafraid_ of them—don’t be afraid of what it is you desire. Of what it is you _want._ Enjoy them and let yourself be happy. You may feel as if you’re not in control on some level, but you are. Everything that’s holding you back from getting it—getting what could make you incandescently happy—are chains are of your own making. You can set yourself free and invite the change you might be dreading. So, the Devil asks—”

“Let me guess… what is it that I most desire?”

“Yes,” said the woman. “And what, exactly, are you so afraid of that you won’t let yourself have it?”

Well, _shit_.

Chloe’s self-assured smile fell and her mouth fell open.

“I…” she tried to say but found no other words to follow. “I, uh…”

A pause later, the woman continued, “Your third card… the card of your _future_ says—”

“You said you don’t do predictions,” Chloe interrupted.

“I don’t,” said the stranger, winking as she did so. “ _This_ spread is advice from different points of your life. Tells you _nothing_ of what _is_ to come—only what to look out for in yourself. A probability you might say.”

“Okay…” she answered, uncertainty trailing off at the end.

“And your third and final card speaks of your future, and you drew—”

But, just as the woman was about to wave her hand above the last card...

“ _Raziel?_ ” came a more familiar British voice from behind Chloe.

He held a rather ridiculously large stick of bright pink cotton candy in hand, outlandish headband still on his head, and yet his very tone was threatening.

“Brother!” said the woman— _Raziel_ , apparently. Chloe could only stare.

Raziel bounced up from her chair and ran up to her brother and, before he could reject her, held his torso in a tight embrace. The woman was much shorter than Chloe had imagined, though she spotted that the other woman wore high heels, and still the top of Raziel’s head only barely reached his chin. Lucifer’s arms simply hung up in the air as if he did not quite know what to do, holding on to his well-earned cotton candy treat for dear life.

“ _Brother?_ ” said a baffled Chloe Decker, snapping out of the air of curiosity that Lucifer’s sister apparently casts.

“Sister, _what_ are you doing here?” he asked her. “No wonder the Detective kept asking questions about… _things._ ”

“What— _you’re_ the only one who’s allowed a vacation?” said Raziel, finally releasing him. She had an impish little smile on her face that made her that much cuter as it made her dimples more prominent.

The detective could only chuckle, if a bit bemusedly.

Raziel added flippantly, “Plus, _I’m_ not even serving a sentence. _I_ don’t have to explain myself.”

The more Chloe looked, the more she could see the family resemblance.

“Does—” Lucifer started but his sister cut him off.

“I asked Dad if I could, if you were wondering. And I knew you lived around here. I was actually waiting for you to show up.”

“You knew I’d be _here_ , of all places,” he said. It wasn’t a question. Raziel shrugged. A beat later he asked, “Did _Father_ put you up to this?”

“As if I always do what Father tells me to do,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “You’re not the only rebel in the family, you know.”

“Uh—hi?” Chloe tried again, hand raised as if to wave Lucifer’s attention to her. Bright blue eyes trying to catch his dark ones and he got the message.

“Ah, yes. My apologies… Detective, this is my _sister_. Raziel,” he said. “Raz, this is…”

“Detective Chloe Decker, LAPD. Homicide,” she said, introducing herself and extending her hand to offer a handshake. Raziel took it firmly but gently and shook it once. Chloe continued, “So, let me get this straight… you _work_ here?”

“Not really. Not full time, at least. More like I freelance—for the fun of it,” Raz replied.

“Yes, well, you do love toying with the humans, don’t you, sis?” Lucifer commented.

“I do not _toy_ with them, Lucifer,” she retorted. “I just… sometimes… give them knowledge they’re not, apparently, ready for. It’s up to _them_ to get acclimated. They really do get too comfortable in their little routines sometimes.”

Raziel took the cotton candy from his hands, started picking it apart with her fingers, and eating it. He frowned and picked at it too before she held it farther away and shook her head, as if the cotton candy was hers now.

The more Chloe looked at the pair of them, the more it looked that these two were obviously siblings.

“Sometimes, they just…” Raziel continued. She met Chloe’s eyes then and she smirked as she continued, “Need a little extra push.”

Lucifer frowned, pouting as he did so. Chloe tried not to think that that made him look adorable and so, she coughed. Business as ever.

“Right, okay—so we were supposed to be here undercover? But I guess there’s no need to do the whole story thing with you since you know Lucifer,” said Chloe. “Anyway, we’re looking into the death of one of the trapeze artists? Cristel Pangan?”

“Let me guess, you’re undercover because you suspect Tito Boy has something to do with it because someone suspects there was foul play in her death and reported it, and you’re afraid he’d get spooked if the authorities asked him any more questions than they already have, pack up before you’ve solved your case, and cross state lines, yeah?”

Chloe blinked once, stunned. Raziel spoke words out in the same way machine guns rained down bullets. There was hardly breath in that sentence and nothing about her amiable features even twitched.

“ _Tito Boy?_ ” Lucifer asked, practically scoffing at the name, as if that was the only thing about his sister’s speech that caught his attention.

“Salazar Pangan,” Raziel clarified. “Everyone calls him Tito Boy. Did I get all that right, Detective?”

“…Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” said Chloe, crossing her arms against her chest. Her brows furrowed and looked Raziel up and down.

“Well, you’re not wrong but still a teeny, tiny bit off,” said the shorter woman, mysterious, curt, and annoyingly vague, much like her brother.

“Do you mind if I ask where you were two days ago between 9 and 11 PM?”

“In the air on my way here,” she answered, pinching off more cotton candy to eat. “I landed just yesterday morning.”

“From where?”

“Up north.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. Lucifer’s siblings — hell, his entire family, it seemed— were certainly were in a league of their own.

“I’m going to need to confirm your alibi,” she said.

“You can ask Tito Boy when you question him. Just started this booth today. Filling in for the regular psychic, actually, and I’m only here on a one day only offer.”

“To surprise Lucifer?” the detective asked. Raziel smiled in response while her brother pocketed his hands and shrugged his shoulders, still giving his sister a pointed look. “But even _he_ didn’t know we were doing this until this afternoon…”

“Call it a lucky guess,” said Raziel, her knowing smile so aggravatingly familiar. “My brother’s a little reckless when it comes to… well… everything.”

“Come now, Detective. Surely, I can vouch for my baby sister,” he said, gesturing to her. Raziel beamed.

“ _Baby_ sister?” Chloe echoed, biting back a laugh. It seemed obvious that Raziel _was_ his younger sibling in their dynamic and yet, she couldn’t help the little smile on her face as Lucifer referred to her as such. He was not an affectionate man — not by traditional standards at least — but it was cute when he said it. Still, she went on. “You didn’t even know she was here until two seconds ago!”

“Yes, but she’s not capable of murdering humans!” he argued.

“Yeah, that is true. I’m _really_ not,” Raziel added.

“Nice as you are, Ms Morningstar, it’s just protocol,” said Chloe.

“Oh, please no. Call me Raziel. Heavens, I’m not a Morningstar. That’s just my brother,” she said. “And I just started in this fair _today_ —what do you think _I’m_ supposed to know?”

“For starters, you seem to already know an awful lot about the investigation for someone who just got here _yesterday_ ,” said the detective, raising a questioning brow at the other woman.

A pause as the siblings looked at each other with a knowing glance—where Lucifer was frowning, Raziel looked smug.

“Am I a suspect now, _Detective?_ ” she asked, smirking. “I mean… it really is Tita Baby you need to be looking into but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Tita who now?” Lucifer interrupted.

“Tita Baby,” Raziel repeated. “She’s Tito Boy’s wife – real name, Lita Pangan.”

“Pangan? They’re related to the vic, right?” Chloe asked.

“Yes. Cristel was their niece,” Raziel answered.

“Why do they call her—” Chloe tried to ask.

“It’s a Filipino thing,” Raziel answered. “Family business. But you knew that.”

“Yes, yes, this is all very boring, but speaking of the family business and back to the more interesting part of all this that relates back to _me_ —what in _Dad’s_ name are you doing here, Raz?”

“I told you,” she said. “ _Holiday._ And you know I don’t lie.”

“That’s my thing,” he said, straightening up his suit jacket.

“I know,” she said, smirking up at him. “I got it from you. Plus, it goes with the brand. Secrets. Knowledge? Falsities don’t do well for my name.”

“Yes but mysteries are all part of your whole act so don’t try to stall, sister—come on… tell me the _whole_ story,” he said in that same intense way that he asks for desires.

Raziel simply raised a brow at him, unimpressed, and popped another bit of cotton candy into her mouth.

“I’m… gonna let you two catch up?” said Chloe after a beat of awkward silence, coming in between the two Angels, with her hands raised in surrender. The two looked at her but she had already begun to walk away from the pair as she continued, “And I’m gonna try to question Salazar and this… _Lita_ you mentioned and confirm your alibi. Thanks, Raziel.”

“Don’t mention it, Detective,” she said after her. “And really! _Don’t!_ ”

The Angels watched her walk into the crowd, the noise swallowing the rest of the humans whole, and all the while, the cotton candy in Raziel’s hand about halfway finished. Lucifer quickly grabbed at it, scooped up the remnants in one quick motion, and swiftly stuffed the rest of the pink treat into his mouth with his fingers. The sugar fizzled and dissolved on his tongue in seconds.

Raziel stared up at him, her lips in a tight line. He made a show of swallowing it and she rolled her eyes at her brother, scoffing with a fond little smile on her lips.

“I can see why you like her, Luci,” she said, looking toward the direction that the detective went.

“Oh, don’t _start_ ,” he said.

“What? It’s all _anyone_ can talk about back home. You, Amenadiel, Mazikeen… here. Involved with humans.”

Lucifer scoffed, a hand against his well-dressed heart.

“Whatever happened to _thou shalt not bear false witness?_ ”

“Has _anything_ of what I’ve said so far been false?” she challenged.

“No,” he answered begrudgingly as he took turns sucking on the tips of his sticky fingers. “Have you heard about Mother?”

“I have,” she answered. “We all have. Father told us as much.”

“That’s _generous_ of Him,” he spat.

She should have known that mentioning their Father would open up old wounds—and she did. It was a subject that they could not escape given who they were and what they are. Still, it was as good enough a time as any to broach the subject… one of the many she came down here to discuss with him in the first place.

“And I know about Uriel too,” she said, quiet and kind.

Lucifer froze and stiffened. He reached for the flask inside his coat pocket and took a generous drink of it. She watched as he did and said nothing.

“Of course, _you_ would.” He grit his teeth as he said this, shoved the flask back into his coat, and pocketed his hands.

“If it helps, _I_ forgive you,” she said, reaching for his arm.

“It doesn’t,” he said, his voice low. Lucifer swallowed.

“I know,” she said. “But know I don’t hate you. Many of us don’t.”

“But some bear a grudge?” he asked, practically daring her to say otherwise.

“You know how Michael can be,” she answered. Quickly, she added, “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Should I be expecting Michael any time soon, then? Make a whole thing of it? A whole family reunion on the Earthly planes?”

“No, no. It’s just me,” she answered. “Just… trying to lighten the mood a bit.”

“Yes, well, bringing up our dead brother’s not exactly the best of icebreakers.”

“No, but it’s something I’d have to mention eventually. Might as well rip the band-aid off now,” she said.

“So, you don’t…” he started. “For Uriel, you don’t…”

“No,” she answered. “I don’t blame you for it. It was an impossible situation, brother, and choosing the other option would have destroyed you.”

“And killing him didn’t? Our own brother?”

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” she asked. “And besides, I’m not one to judge. I never have.”

“Afraid that’s dear old Dad’s schtick,” he commented. “So—holiday for the first Know-It-All herself, eh? Silver City lost all its splendour for you?”

“No, never,” she said. “But you know I love them—the humans. Giving them a bit of a push in the right direction is… kind of my thing.”

Raziel looked the crowd as she said this, leaning back against her table. She spoke with a fondness for the humans that he never really understood. While he, too, liked the humans well enough, he knew that his sister held a different kind of fascination for them. She and their Father were rather similar in many regards but, unlike their Father, she was not quite so megalomaniacal.

One of the kindest Angels, his little sister was, if a bit of a pest. Though she meant well, she always did. But Lucifer always did think that she acted more like a helicopter parent than anything else. Humans were so much better when they figured things out for themselves instead of relying on Heavenly powers and gifts to get them through their everyday.

Still, she only ever wanted to help. And of course, as his duty was as her older brother, was then to tease her for it.

“’Cause that worked out so well for Adam and Eve,” he mocked.

Bit of a sore spot for him that she, too, tried to go against their Father’s whims when the first humans were cast out of paradise—thanks to his own machinations, of course—and yet his sister was never punished for trying to gift them with a book. That famed bloody book of the Angel Raziel – and its bloody secrets on how to get back to Heaven and all that.

He supposed that since her rebellion was in the interest of the humans, she merely got a scolding from their only all-too forgiving Heavenly Father. Whereas he’d orchestrated an entire mutiny against Heaven itself. Still, it stung that she seemed to have gotten away with her own transgression rather easily.

And, perhaps, it was not the best idea to go at a battle of wits against his little sister because she’d countered his mocking without missing a beat as she said, “Much like knowledge of the divine’s working out for Dr Martin.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened then narrowed back as he realised to whom he was speaking.

For his sister was Raziel, of course—Angel of Knowledge and Mysteries, after all. The Keeper of Secrets. Hers was a presence that inspired and compelled _curiosity_. In fact, the only Being in all of Creation who knew more than his little sister was their bloody Father Himself. After all, she was basically His glorified personal secretary.

Why many believed her to be a man, he would never understand. He would blame those confound Young Adult novels turned film adaptation turned Netflix series, with the hunters and the terrible tattoos.

“I do hate it when you do that,” he muttered.

“Can’t help it,” she said, almost apologetic. She shrugged. “If it’s a fact, I know it.”

“And that’s _really_ all you’re here for? Of all places, _this_ is where you announce your presence— _while_ I’m with the detective?”

“Well…”

“ _Raziel._ ”

“I wasn’t going to throw away my shot at seeing what you’d be like at work,” she said impishly, as if trying to hold back a laugh at her own little joke.

He raised his eyebrows at her and she tucked in her lips. He scoffed and drawled, unimpressed, “You’ve seen Hamilton.”

“Not yet,” she replied cheekily. It almost made him smile. “Before I go back, though, I will.”

“Well, you already know the story—why bother seeing the show?”

“Luci, you and I both know that _knowing_ something is altogether different from experiencing it.”

He tilted his head, conceding to her point. “That I do. Touché.”

“So, I really am just on holiday,” she said. “Getting to see my older brothers is just a tiny bit of a perk.”

“Brothers? You’ve seen Amenadiel, then?”

“No, not yet.”

“Ah, so you missed _me_ more?” he asked.

“Well, I haven’t seen you as often as I saw him,” she replied, biting her tongue as it pressed against the wall of her cheeks.

“So you missed _me_ more than you missed Amenadiel?” he repeated, grinning. “Admit it, little sister. You missed me _more_.”

Raziel sucked in her lips and her cheeks, looking up at him like she couldn’t believe it. She squinted and scrunched up her little upturned button nose and, finally, said, “So what if I did?”

“Yes, well…” he continued on. “I always did hate you least in Heaven,”

He took his flask from within his suit jacket again and took a swig. Raziel looked up at him with those big eyes and he could not help but want to smile in her presence. Of all his sisters, she was always the one who was the least judgmental of the lot. Being _almost_ as all-knowing as their Father gave her that trait.

He remembered during his rebellion that she was one of the few who chose not to take sides between him and their Father.

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said. He offered her the flask and she took it. After a swig, she asked, “But how _is_ Amenadiel doing by the way?”

“Ask him yourself and, while you’re at it, you can tell him to leave me alone,” he said as he pocketed back his flask.

“Who do I look like to you? _Gabriel?_ ” she said, hands on her hips. “I’m not your messenger, brother. Tell him yourself.”

As she said that, she went back around her table and started to gather her things.

“Is this your tent?” he asked. “I must say, Raz, I hate to think of you slumming it just to make rent. You could always stay with me at my penthouse above Lux, if you like.”

“Shut up, you idiot. I don’t actually work here. This isn’t my tent,” she said. “It was here when I got here. I think the regular tarot card reader’s on a break.”

It was only then that Lucifer noticed the spread on the table in the first place.

“You did a reading for the detective?”

“I did, yes.”

“There’s me…” he said, taking the Devil card before his sister could tuck it away with the rest of the deck. “Tell me, what does this say for her?”

“You know all readings are confidential,” Raziel answered. “I don’t give out secrets without consent. Part of the deal with Dad after the whole book fiasco happened.”

“You didn’t—Raz, you didn’t say anything _untoward_ about me, did you?”

“You? What could I ever _say…?_ ” she asked, the picture of innocence. Lucifer gave her a pointed look that said he was buying none of it. So she added, “That she doesn’t already _know_.”

He raised his brows.

“I just… told her some _things_ …” she said, taking the card back from him and setting it on top of the deck. She took the other card and placed it face down on top of the deck. She added, “Like I said… sometimes, people just need a little extra push. You’ll thank me later.”

“ _Thank you?_ ” he asked, incredulous.

“You’re welcome,” she answered, a maddening grin on her face.

“That’s not—”

But before he could finish that, his phone buzzed in his pocket and he swiftly reached to retrieve it. Raziel wrapped her tarot deck with the dark cloth and held it close to her chest. He read the text message and his eyes widened.

“Chloe needs you,” she said.

It wasn’t a question—she _knew_. He tried not to think about the fact that the smug look on her face suggested that she meant that in more ways than one.

“Right,” he said, looking up at her. “I…”

He hesitated, not quite certain if it was the right call to leave his sister for his detective.

“I’ll drop by Lux soon. We’ll catch up properly there,” she told him. “Go.”

He couldn’t help himself. Lucifer grinned.

“Oh, I have _missed you_ , sister,” he said, reaching over to kiss her forehead. Raziel smiled and closed her eyes.

“I know. And I you, brother,” she said. “Go!”

With that, Lucifer ran to where his beloved beckoned while Raziel watched as he did, for she now already knew how this case was going to go, with the evidence that Chloe Decker would collect that night. She yawned as she smiled to herself, knowing no one else could see—except her Father.

She felt a warm breeze wrap around her and she turned upward and smirked.

“I know, I know… no meddling. And I’m not! Never do,” she said, to seemingly no one at all. “You have to admit, though, Dad—your plot _was_ moving a bit slow.”

The breeze around her blew cooler and faster, tussling her short hair as if God were messing up the top of his daughter’s head with his own hand. She laughed.

“Yes, yes—in Your perfect time. I’m _well aware_ , Father,” she said, shaking her head knowingly. She hollered up, “Artistic differences!”

And as they were in Southern California, no one looked twice at the odd British woman who looked to be shouting at nothing at all.

Raziel chuckled to herself and unwrapped the cloth that held her tarot cards together. She plucked the top card – Chloe Decker’s third card – and she grinned. She looked upward and winked again.

“Don’t be afraid of what it is you desire, Chloe Decker,” she whispered to wind.

With a flippant toss, she discarded the tarot card and allowed it to be carried off by the wind. She smiled as she watched it go, knowing the wind will return it to her later. The remaining Angel then unfurled her copper wings – her feathers, as rich and warm as her eyes in sunlight – and set off.

Meanwhile, the card continued to drift off, the watercolour art on it depicting two figures with the majesty of Earth just behind them, both Heaven and Hell above and below them—the figures, together in a tight embrace.

And together, The Lovers were encased in the glow of Heaven’s light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be three chapters, hence the rating. To be continued!
> 
> This was written very quickly and not really proofread very well. I just couldn't get it out of my head after my bingewatch. Please forgive any grammatical/spelling errors that are inevitable at this point.
> 
> Do leave your comments, fic ideas, and whatnot! I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts! Let me know if you want to see more of Raziel! Leave constructive criticism! It always makes me nervous to try to write for characters I've never written before and I literally bingewatched all three seasons of Lucifer in four days because depression and I'm obsessed. Talk to me about them! I'm going to fight Pierce with my bare hands!
> 
> Also, the Angel Raziel is usually depicted as a man. For this, Raziel is a female angel who's played by Jenna Coleman (Clara Oswald from Doctor Who, Queen Victoria in ITV Victoria). Because I said so. Also, I'm sorry for the Shadowhunters shade. I had to. 
> 
> Side note, feel free to @ me or message me on [**Twitter**](https://twitter.com/owedbetter_) or [**Tumblr**](https://owedbetter.tumblr.com).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to reiterate, we're going into this fic with the following assumptions: 
> 
> 1) This fic is vaguely after what I assume S3 will be and the last episode as of writing this fic was 'Orange is the New Maze'.  
> 2) I'm assuming that by the end of S3, Chloe finds out that Pierce has been using her for his own selfish, dickish desires and Maze is friends with everyone again.  
> 3) Chloe still doesn't know about the whole Angel/Devil thing but the second part of this chapter involves four people with female pronouns, so I had to make due with the common nouns and whatnot in an attempt to make the scene both 3A) sound good 3B) clear.  
> 4) Jenna Coleman would make an excellent baby sister for Tom Ellis' Lucifer just because I said so. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.
> 
> If you're reading this after S3 and none of my assumptions were correct, well... I tried. This was how I coped with the three week hiatus.

_“I fuck like a hurricane,_  
_which is to say nothing_  
_of its sudden onset or its volume_

 _only—_  
_that it takes an entire team of scientists to predict_  
_when it will happen, I—_

 _fuck like a tornado._  
_In here, we will be safe._  
_But around us, things will be destroyed by our excess._

 _And I promise, baby, I promise—_  
_we will not end up where we started.”_

 _—_ Excerpt from “ **[Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LTjArdM7F4)** ” by Jared Singer

 

* * *

 

 

“Detective,” he greeted.

“Hi.”

They solved the case not more than two hours after the tip from Raziel.

As it turned out, the trapeze artist was Tita Baby’s _daughter_ and was not her niece. Salazar knew of his wife’s infidelity but the couple still raised the girl as their own as they had been trying to conceive for years but had no luck. It was then Cristel’s apparent little sister who was born two years after her, Krystal, who’d harboured a grudge against her older sibling.

The rest, as they say, was history.

In the end, Krystal threatened to shoot Chloe while standing from a high point. Neither of them could understand how Lucifer got up there so quickly so as to make his arrest of the girl, grinning while he did.

As far as cases went, it was one of their tamer ones. Relatively insane with a touch of convoluted family drama—so was her life in Los Angeles so long as she was with Lucifer, it seemed.

The night went on and the detective didn’t know how she ended up in the lift that rose to Lucifer’s penthouse apartment. She didn’t know what she might have found there – him with multiple bedmates was up on the list of possibilities – but when the door opened, she found him alone, by his grand piano, playing a tune she did not recognise.

The melody sounded sweet but sad.

In hindsight, she should have recognised this was for when she looked down and saw that she was wearing nothing but a large, white button-down shirt with far too big of a thread count for her to own herself. It smelled of spice and warmth and decadence – of him, she realised, as a short cool breeze entered the room.

His whole face lit up as he called her ‘ _detective_ ’. Somehow, the word would not only ever be associated with him. It was in the way he said it, in that honeyed baritone with that English inflection, that she could never hear the word in any other way than his.

Chloe licked her lips and swallowed.

The next thing she knew was she was on the soft leather bench with him, on top of him, and she could feel the warmth of his hands on her thighs, on her hips, on the underside of her breasts. She could not remember the sight of it for the room had suddenly become dark, barely lit with the yellow lights of his private bar shelves, but she could feel his stubble on her neck, on her jaw.

She loved touching his face, reveling in how it went from impossibly silky and smooth to the texture of his stubble, to the shape of his face against her fingers. His lips were soft against hers, she knew, and he was gentler than she thought he would be, for he held her like something precious in his hands—not breakable, but _priceless_.

The next thing she knew, he’d hoisted her up by the waist and rested her atop his grand piano.

Where had her shirt gone? She loved that shirt—she’d stolen it from him on her birthday and he’d never asked about it either. The man probably had a thousand identical Armani button downs that he probably never realised that it had gone missing. Still, the shirt was gone.

Before him, she was as bare as the first woman in Creation. She didn’t know why but she remembered the First Law of Thermodynamics—that energy could not be created nor destroyed and so, part of her was still part of that first Creation, still knew of that first warmth and light. And oh, when his head dipped between her legs and when his tongue flicked against her slick, warm skin, it was as if some part of her – that part of her that was as old as time itself – remembered that this, _this_ is what Paradise was like.

She felt herself rise higher and higher, her hips bucking up against him as her legs wrapped around his head. She felt the vibrations of the piano on which she was laid and she knew his fingers played along the keys of the piano in a complicated, fast tune she did not recognise.

The fucker was eating her out and playing a goddamn concerto at the same fucking time.

“ _Show off,_ ” she muttered against her pillow.

‘ _Wait,_ pillow _—?_ ’ she thought, consciousness seeping back in. ‘ _Wait, no, no, no—_ ’

Chloe choked on her spit as she woke, coughing then as some of her hair had gotten into her mouth.

“Holy _shit,_ ” she whispered to no one as she sat up. Suddenly the sheets wrapped around her made her feel far, far too warm. The low thrum of the air conditioner filled the eerie quiet. Her room was doused in the blue-black of the dead of night—the darkest dark, just before dawn.

She threw her head back against her headboard and rested a hand on her racing heart. She’d had dreams like that before – all of them with the same principal cast as of late – but that one felt particularly real.

‘ _What are you so afraid of that you won’t let yourself have it?_ ’ said a voice in her head. It was a question she didn’t want to think about; a truth she did not want to face. For it was clear to her at this point what it was that she really desired. Rather, _who._ But her mouth felt dry and all she could think about was the last time she felt his kiss.

The way he’d spoken her title – _detective_ – with such reverence that it nearly sounded like a prayer. And shrouded in the light of the sunset while the waves kept trying to roll on and kiss the shore, it was the perfect setting. The memory of his soft, maddening lips that brought a smile to hers now, in the dead of night. Her smile crept in on her as she thought of him and the dream came back to her in vivid clarity.

And as she slowly sank back between her covers, she closed her eyes and tried to recall the scene.

Her pyjama pants had gotten too itchy and too sweaty to her that once she was beneath her blankets, she kicked them off. Her shaved, bare legs relished the feel of freshly washed sheets around her. And as she bit her lip and snaked a hand between her legs as she thought of him. She imagined tongue where her fingers were; she imagined that his stubble would tickle the skin of her inner thigh.

These days, the only body she has touched like _that_ , like _this_ has been hers.

Beneath the sheets, her whimpers were secrets she was too ashamed, too prudent to voice out, and when she called out his name at the moment of bliss, it lasted much, much _shorter_ than she wanted it to. Unsatisfying and far, far too quick for she was all riled up from her subconscious’ foreplay.

Her bliss came out voiceless, as her mouth opened for her tongue to dance out the shape of his name but still, no sound came out—a p _ractised_ silence, for fear of the demon in the other room possibly witnessing this secret that, these days, only her sheets and pillows (sometimes, her shower curtains and the tiles of her bathroom floor) knew about and saw and heard. For fear of her child coming in—because no child ever wants to see their mother like that (and she, unfortunately, knew from experience).

Her breath came in quiet, trembling gasps. Her eyelids, heavy. She sank further into her pillows, further into her soft sheets.

The sun had not yet risen and her room was doused in the known blue darkness of the early morning. She felt sweat between her thighs, upon her brow, along every curve of her body. A tightness, a tingling that sang of dissatisfaction just below her belly, and she knew that it was not enough.

It wasn’t good enough and she swallowed as she knew that she craved more.

She held her fingers level with her lips – fluid coating just the tips of them, a transparent line bending as she stretched them apart – and tasted them, tasting the salt and honey of her own making. In her mind’s eyes, she saw his looking at her as he did _this_ with his own fingers—sucked them dry of her and his eyes would have been dark and devouring and _divine_.

She let the touch of her fingers linger on her lips, the scent of her sex reminding her of him even though she has never known him this way.

But she wanted to—oh, she wanted to.

And she was not afraid anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

Chloe couldn’t sleep afterward and, when the sun finally came up, there was nothing left to do except start the day.

She changed her sheets, cleaned up the house a little bit, and took a shower. Her activities of the night before were just about wiped away by this routine in which she was so comfortable. And she might not have done anything differently this day if that knock hadn’t come to the door.

She was just about to make breakfast – bowls laid out, pancake mix and eggs and blueberries and milk all prepped – when the knock came. She wasn’t expecting anyone and yet, when she looked through the peephole, it was the last person she thought would be paying her a visit.

Chloe opened the door and said, “ _Raziel?_ ”

“Good morning, Detective,” said the short British woman who was far too cheerful, smartly dressed, and well put-together for an early Saturday morning. Who wears purple pantsuits and stiletto heels on a _weekend_?

No wonder she was Lucifer’s little sister.

Still, when Raziel called her ‘detective’, it didn’t quite feel right. It sounded far too much like Lucifer and it was far too soon for her thoughts to be dwindling back into that category.

“Just… _Chloe_ is… fine,” she ended up saying. She lingered by the door and while Raziel didn’t seem to be threatening, Chloe Decker was not in the business of letting in total strangers into her home while her only daughter was still sleeping. “I don’t mean to be _rude_ but uh—what are you doing here? And… how did you know where I lived?”

Raziel’s cheerful little smile turned into a grimace as if she was trying to figure out just the right kind of wording to say just enough of the truth without altogether confessing the whole of it. Reminded her of someone she would much rather not think about, given how her day started.

“I… kind of know everything?” she replied, though the end of her sentence sounded more like a question. “If you like, you can reason that my brother’s got abysmal cybersecurity against the likes of me and your address is in his contact details for you.”

‘ _If I like?_ ’ Chloe thought.

She raised a brow and questioned, “You’re like a hacker or something?”

“If you like,” she replied, vague and frustrating as hell.

“Uh… okay,” she acquiesced, figuring that forcing that point would have been a Sisyphean task. She shrugged her shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest.

“So, what brings you here? Lucifer in some kind of trouble?”

“No, nothing of the sort,” Raziel replied. “Well, you’re one of my brother’s best friends here, and I… well, I felt a bit bad for being _somewhat_ duplicitous with you yesterday with the whole thing at the fairgrounds, so…” She brought up her hands that she was holding behind her and revealed that she was carrying a large woven picnic basket. Raziel brought it up to level with her face and the smile on her face made her look like a girl scout trying to sell cookies. Chloe chuckled.

“I brought scones and jelly to maybe amend that impression. I made them fresh this morning. Thought you and your family might like them for breakfast.”

“ _I’m_ one of Lucifer’s best friends?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Of course,” Raziel replied, smirking. Chloe’s left eye twitched and she closed her eyes, breathed in, and sighed.

“You—the scones, you _really_ didn’t have to do that,” she said. She moved aside and gestured. “Please, come in.”

“Oh, thank you very much,” said the other woman as she entered the living room and closed the door behind her gently and she heard it close and lock with a faint click.

‘Way _more polite than her brother is, that’s for sure,_ ’ Chloe thought. ‘ _She must be_ extra _British._ ’

“Oh, let me get that for you,” she offered, gesturing to the picnic basket. Raziel gave it to her without question and she nearly stumbled as she realised just how heavy this basket was, yet the shorter woman didn’t look like she had any trouble with it at all. And she was in heels! On a Saturday morning!

“What is _in_ this?” Chloe asked.

“Just some scones. And a few glass jars of jellies and jams,” she answered. “Is it too heavy for you? Let me—”

“No, no, it’s fine. I got it,” she said, placing the picnic basket on top of the kitchen island.

“Your home is beautiful,” said Raziel as she settled herself up on one of the high stools, her short legs dangling from the air. She looked at the walls with wide, bright eyes, grinning. She gestured at the various hand-drawn pictures and asked, “Your child’s art, yes?”

“Trixie, yeah. She should be up any minute. It’s Saturday so I’m letting her sleep in a little,” Chloe replied. “She’s nine.”

“How precious,” said the other woman.

“You got kids?” Chloe asked.

“Oh, no. ‘Fraid not. Dad would… _disapprove_ , to say the least,” she answered. “But I do love them. Children? So naturally bright-eyed and curious about the world. So _full_ of wonder and potential and just so… so _open_ to new ideas. Just like you all were, once.”

“Uh huh,” said Chloe.

‘ _Wow, daddy issues all around for this family,_ ’ she thought to herself.

“So, what do you do?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—Lucifer owns Lux and Amenadiel has a clinic, and do you like have a psychic tent or something…”

“Oh! No, _well…_ ” Raziel started. She licked her lips and paused before she finally answered and said, “Well, _technically_ , I’m a writer. Bit like my Father’s secretary, most of the time, more like. And sometimes, I uh… well, I travel and… _teach._ ”

“So, the whole… tarot card-thing… that was just—”

“Oh no, no, no,” said the Angel. “I _do_ read tarot cards. That wasn’t just for show, I assure you.” She tilted her head and looked at Chloe with an inquisitive gaze. A beat later, she asked, “Why? Have your doubts about my psychic abilities?”

“You said you weren’t psychic.”

“Well, I’m… _not_ ,” she amended. As she spoke, she gestured freely. “But I am… quite _deeply_ spiritual, you could say. Something on your mind about your reading?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe admitted. “It’s… it’s just something you said last night, I guess.”

“Have you thought any more about what the cards said?”

“A little,” she confessed, truth tumbling out of her like a river breaking from a dam. “Those readings… they… they really stick with you, don’t they?”

“Only if they ring true,” said Raziel, a knowing smile on her face. “That _is_ the thing about the truth, innit? Once you see it for what it is and believe it to be true… it doesn’t leave you. There is no pretending it isn’t there. It’s like… it’s like pretending dawn’s not breaking to a new day even though the sun’s already started to rise.”

Chloe swallowed. Her mouth felt dry.

She blinked several times, just looking at the other woman, that she hadn’t heard her daughter’s door slide open and hadn’t noticed that the nine-year-old was just standing beside them, looking up at Raziel with a child’s curiosity.

“Hi,” said Trixie.

“Trixie, you’re up!” said Chloe, blinking out of her sudden trance.

“Oh hello, little one,” said Raziel at the same time, leaning towards Trixie. She smiled at the girl, dimples appearing in full force—a grin that matched Trixie’s own.

“You sound just like Lucifer,” said the girl.

“Tiny bit true,” Raziel agreed. “Though I sound a bit more Northern than my brother, I’d say.”

Trixie gasped. “You’re Lucifer’s _sister?_ ”

“Much smarter than he is, too.”

“Of course you are,” the child agreed. “You’re a _girl_. Mommy says girls are always smarter than boys.”

Chloe laughed behind her hand and Raziel concealed her gritting her teeth in a grin that showed all her teeth.

“If you’re still holding on to that binary, sure, but I digress…” she forced out with a faux cheer. She turned to Chloe and whispered, “There’s a _lot_ to unpack there.”

“So, what’s _your_ name?” Trixie asked.

“Raziel, child,” the woman replied. She gestured at the walls as she added, “And you’re Trixie. I _love_ your work.”

“You’re kinda short for a grown up,” said the girl.

Raziel laughed—a clear, high sound.

“Trixie!” Chloe scolded.

“It’s quite all right, Chloe,” said the woman, resting a hand on the back of hers. She turned to Trixie and said, “And I quite like being short.”

Raziel made a show of looking around and she raised her hand by her lips as if she were telling the girl some kind of confidential secret and she conspired in a hushed, loud whisper, “It means I can ask Luci for piggyback rides even though I’m all grown up!”

Trixie gasped like she’d just been given a treat. Chloe breathed out a chuckle.

“ _No way,_ ” said the girl, the grin on her face bright enough to make the Angel’s entire millennia.

“ _Yes way!_ ” she replied. “You’ll have to needle at him a bit, of course, but he’s a _natural_ softie. Especially for those big, pretty eyes like _you’ve_ got? He doesn’t stand a chance, trust me.”

“Baby, Raziel brought over some scones,” Chloe interrupted. “You want some for breakfast?”

“What’s a scone?” her daughter asked.

“Uh…” she trailed off as Raziel jumped in.

“It’s a kind of… almost a cake but it’s still just bread. _Mostly,_ ” she said. “You can put a bit of butter on it and then a bit of jam or jelly on top, if you like. There’s some in the basket. I brought some Earl Grey jelly in there and some strawberry jam from England. I think you might like them.”

As Raziel explained, Chloe opened up the picnic basket and brought out the jars of jams and jellies, as she mentioned. She leaned into the basket to smell the pastries and moaned as she felt herself start to salivate at the aroma. Nothing quite like freshly baked goods to get a woman wanting.

“Wow, they do smell _amazing_ ,” said Chloe.

“You could say they’re quite _heavenly_.”

“Can I have one, mommy?” Trixie asked.

“Sure, babe,” she said, running a hand through her daughter’s hair. “Go wash up first.”

“Okay!”

Trixie ran to do as she was told and Chloe went behind the counter to prepare a few plates. She noticed the way Raziel watched as her daughter ran off to the bathroom to wash her hands and rinse her mouth out with water. There was a fondness there, in the way the brunette smiled, that made her decide right then and there that she really liked this woman.

“You are… _way_ better with kids than Lucifer is,” she said, slathering the soft butter on top of a large, plain scone with little raisins in between the dough.

“Oh, well…” Raziel replied. “Forgive him. My brother and I have different charms.”

“You up for babysitting some time while you’re in the city?” she joked.

“I would love to!” the Angel replied, to the detective’s surprise.

Trixie returned just as Chloe finished putting on a layer of the Earl Grey jelly on top of the scone. She handed her daughter the plate and some napkins, and the girl ran to the dinner table to eat her pastry.

“Oh wow,” said Chloe as she took another one from the basket. She ate it plainly. “Oh, my God. These… these are incredible!”

“They’re usually for afternoon tea, but…” said Raziel. “It’s tea time somewhere.”

Chloe laughed.

Trixie piped up and said, “I _really_ like this!”

“I’ll have to teach you how to make them while I’m here,” said Raziel.

“Can you make chocolate cake?” the girl asked suddenly, her eyes suddenly getting so wide, it was almost as if they inflated.

“Sure,” Raziel agreed. “But just between us? Lucifer’s Food Cake is… divine beyond measure.”

“ _Lucifer’s Food Ca—_ ” Chloe commented. “Oh, Devil’s Food… yeah, okay, I get it.”

Raziel laughed, saying, “And besides, I’m more of a soufflé girl myself.”

Chloe brought out three glasses and a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator. She poured all three of them drinks and brought one over to her daughter. By the time she got back to her houseguest, Raziel was helping herself to one of the scones she brought with her dainty little fingers.

“So, what was he _like_? Lucifer?” she asked as she tried the butter and jelly technique. “Growing up?”

“ _Luci?_ ” Raziel started. “Well, we didn’t have the most… traditional upbringings, as you might expect, given your exposure to two of my older brothers. But Lucifer… he was always the best of us back in the day. Even if some our other brothers and sisters who are loathe to admit it. But he really, _really_ was… he was the brightest, most beautiful of us all.”

Chloe raised her brows and she froze. She blinked as she looked at Raziel in disbelief, her mouth hanging open and her holding the scone to her lips just a breath away from a bite.

It was the first time she had ever heard anyone talk about Lucifer with such a _fondness_. Those he kept in his company were not shy to sing of his praises in more amorous, lascivious situations but no one had ever quite described Lucifer with such… _kindness_. Not even from the few times she’s managed to talk with Amenadiel. And God knows Maze did not get sentimental about her best friend, despite their recently rectified friendship after the whole fiasco with Pierce. They thought well of him and knew him to be good, yes, but it saddened her note that this was the first time she ever really heard such care for Lucifer. And, perhaps, she ought to make her care for him known more often.

‘ _Not now,_ ’ Chloe thought to herself. ‘ _Focus._ ’

Still, Lucifer’s sister clearly loved him, and that made her heart soar. It was good to know that he had family like this though, part of her wondered then as to what she was really up to and why she really came to her house in the first place.

“He was _always_ this charming too,” Raziel continued. “He could talk his way through and out of _anything._ Well… _almost_ anything.”

“He hasn’t changed at all, then,” said Chloe.

“I would imagine so, yes, but I love him anyway. If you can rely on anything, you can rely on Lucifer’s integrity. He is nothing if not consistent to who he is and to who wants to be,” she said. “My big brother is true to his word to a fault. And to himself and… to those he really cares about.”

The way Raziel paused at the end there, and the way those brown eyes looked at her, made her swallow and chuckle nervously

“Sounds like you guys have…” she said, taking a bite of the scone. “A big family.”

She moaned again as the scone was leagues better with the butter and jelly, just as she’d said.

“Very,” she said, holding back a laugh. “And we may have our… squabbles. But deep down, we all love each other very, _very_ much. Even Lucifer and Dad, no matter how many times Luci tries to deny it.”

“He’s certainly got a lot to say about your Dad,” said Chloe.

“Well, Father is…” Raziel started. “He isn’t the easiest to understand and He… He’s very set in His ways and doesn’t really offer much explanation for anything and asks you to trust Him anyway, _which_ has never sat well with my brother. And Lucifer’s always worn his heart on his sleeve. He prefers things to be blunt and honest and true, as conniving as he may be sometimes, no matter his intentions for what he thinks is for the greater good.” She paused and laughed as she shook her head. “They’re _so_ much more alike than Lucifer likes to admit, him and Dad.”

“We’re all made in His image, right?”

“Oh, nice reference!” the Angel agreed, grinning widely. “I caught that!”

“I think it’s good for him,” she said. “That you’re visiting.”

“I like to think so,” said his sister. “And I think you’re good for him, too.”

Chloe just about choked. “Excuse me?”

“You like him,” said Raziel. It wasn’t a question.

“Uh— _what?_ ” she coughed. Chloe drank her juice.

“My brother,” she said, mimicking her host as she drank from her glass too. Brown eyes never left hers and the intensity of her gaze made her blue eyes stay in direct contact. “You _like_ him.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Chloe, it’s kind of my job to know things,” she said. “You’ve liked him for a while and it’s pretty obvious that my brother reciprocates your feelings tenfold at least, so…”

“I—I’m not?” Chloe denied. “I don’t…” Chloe denied again. Raziel raised her brows and averted her gaze, smirking as she did so—clearly not buying it.

“We’re friends. We’re just friends,” Chloe denied a third time. “It was never going to work out anyway, so—”

“And how do you know that?” Raziel pressed.

“We’re just—” she started. “We’re too different. And he just—and it all just keeps, like…” Chloe trailed off and licked her lips. “I don’t…” she shook her head as she felt heat and blood rise to her cheeks. She looked down and set her glass on the kitchen island. And she finally said, “We’ve got a good thing we’ve got going on. I don’t want that to—to change, or…”

“End?” Raziel asked. Chloe looked up at the other woman and saw that her knowing, borderline patronising grin was gone. There was an understanding in those eyes. A wisdom as old as time. “You’re afraid if you both pursue what could make you happy, you could lose it. Lose _him_.” A pause before she added, “Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, innit?”

“Okay, woah. You’re—” said Chloe, hands in the air, as she chuckled nervously. “You’re going like… woosh.” She forced a laugh. “ _Way_ over—uh…”

Her palms were suddenly sweaty and rubbed against the cloth of her shirt.

“Anyway,” said Chloe. “We’re—Lucifer and I, we’re _okay_ as we are. We’re good.”

“And no part of you… ever wants _more?_ ” Raziel asked. “ _Dreams_ of more?”

“I…”

The way Raziel said that made her cheeks flush and her eyes widen. No _fucking_ way Raziel knew about her dream that morning but the way she looked at her made it feel as if there was no truth, no fact that she could hide from this woman.

She only smiled, though. Kindly, now. Warm—like a mother’s.

“Chloe,” she said, reaching out to touch her hand. “You were not designed to suffer or settle for less. No one was. You were beautifully and wonderfully made… to be _happy_.”

“Hey, Raziel?” said Trixie, who was still sitting at the dinner table, watching the two adults converse.

The brunette turned her head to the girl and asked, “Yes, darling?”

“I _like_ you,” she said. The two women laughed. The girl asked, “How long will you be staying?”

“Well…” she said. “As long as I’m needed, I imagine.”

“What are _you_ supposed to be— _Mary Poppins?_ ”

The voice made them all stand at alert as Maze showed up, clad in dark leather, with her hair in a state of morning disarray. Raziel eyed her up and down, a different kind of smile creeping onto her lips.

“Tiny bit like that,” she answered. “Speaking of practically perfect in every way, _you_ must be Mazikeen.”

Maze scoffed and rolled her eyes but then grinned all the same. She leaned into the Angel and neither of them flinched. In fact, Raziel only grinned all the more.

“ _Smooth,_ ” said Maze, eyes looking at her lips and back to her eyes. Raziel did the same.

“You two…” Chloe coughed. “Don’t know each other?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure, no,” said Raziel, her high voice lowering to a more sultry octave.

“No… you haven’t,” Maze replied, leaning in closer. “Who’re _you_ supposed to be?”

“Raziel,” she replied.

“Huh… a _sister_ ,” the demon whistled. “Come down from up north often?”

“For you? I can come down any time you like.”

The two women chuckled lowly, licking their lips—the blazing chemistry, sparking in an instant. Chloe clapped her hands together and turned everyone’s attention to her before Lucifer’s sister and best friend started making out and, knowing Maze, knowing that it wouldn’t have stopped there.

“O- _kay!_ ” said Chloe. “Trixie, babe, have you got your bag all packed for your dad’s?”

“Uh-huh!” said her daughter, eating the last bit of her scone.

“And your soccer stuff for this afternoon?”

“Oh…” Trixie trailed off and ran to her room. “I’ll be right back!” She swung her door back open to look at Raziel and she asked, “Are you gonna still be here when I’m done packing?”

“I don’t think so but _trust_ , little one,” she replied. “This won’t be the last you’ve seen of me. I promise.”

“Okay,” said Trixie, giving a little wave. “Bye, Raziel!”

“You’re good with the little squirt,” Maze whispered by her ear with the copper angel wing ear cuff.

Unfazed, Raziel turned her head slowly and said, “I’m good with _all kinds_ of squirts.”

“Jesus, you _are_ his sister,” Chloe whispered to herself.

Raziel chuckled and bowed her head, conceding defeat to the unspoken game of chicken she’d apparently been playing with Maze, and turned back to Chloe. Maze walked past her and got a scone from the picnic basket and settled on the couch.

“Well, _fun_ as this was, that reminds me… I’d better go back to my brother.”

“Oh. Y-yeah, of course,” said Chloe. “Thank you for… the scones. And for the reading last night. You—you really helped… with the _case_.”

“You’re very welcome,” she said, hopping off the stool. But, just before she headed for the door, she looked Chloe dead in the eye and said earnestly, “Remember… don’t be afraid.”

Chloe looked at the other woman and she could only stare for a second, licking her lips, and then nodding. From the corner of her eye, Raziel saw Maze take a suggestive bite out of the scone and gestured for her to call her. She winked at her and reached to give Chloe’s arm a squeeze.

“I’ll see you around.”

 

* * *

 

Saturday nights at Lux have become, unfortunately, _boring_.

It wasn’t that there were no more people who came through to the club. On the contrary, attendance had never been better. Still, he could hardly feel the same rush as he used to whenever he participated in the revelries that occurred down there. More often than not, he’d be wishing he was at the comfort of the Decker’s family residence instead, playing Jenga with the little spawn and making dinner for four—with Maze included, of course. Make it five with the douche, even.

The allure of fleeting fancies and frivolities had lost their shine to him and his heart yearned for something more. For something _real_. And whenever he thought of something that felt like that, it was _her_ face he saw—with her big blue eyes and her soft, golden hair.

He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, aching to prepare a stiff drink and dinner for himself, and just about jumped when he saw someone holding a bottle of some of his finest gin from his shelves, making herself what looked to be a gin and tonic.

“Oh, dear Dad in Heaven,” he cursed.

Raziel shrugged, unfazed. “You did say I could come stay.”

“Yes, well—I didn’t exactly _expect_ you to take the offer,” he muttered. “Would have assumed you’d have taken off by now.”

“Me? Leave without saying goodbye? It’s like you don’t even know who I _am_ ,” she said taking a sip of her drink and walking toward the piano. “I’ve always liked Earth and its people.”

Raziel set a coaster down and then her drink as she settled herself on the piano bench. She opened up the lid and started to play a slow, sweet tune.

“You like _everyone_ , Raz. That doesn’t exactly sell on the higher points of this plane of existence. It just shows you’re an abysmal judge of character,” he argued, reaching for his phone to send a text message, and tucking it back into his pocket.

“Being optimistic isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” she said as she continued playing. “I like _liking_ things and believing in people.” As she spoke, her brother picked up a bottle of his favoured bourbon and poured himself a glass. She said, “And besides, since we’re on the subject, why do _you_ like Earth so much?”

“They make excellent sashimi over here. And better bourbon,” he said, raising a glass.

“ _Lucifer,_ ” she said, turning her head and giving him a look.

He snorted into his drink without humour. Raziel didn’t budge—and she never would. Steadfast, all-knowing little shit that she was. There was no point in lying to her, after all.

“I like being my own being and here is where I can be just that,” he said, taking his drink and taking a seat next to his little sister. She stopped playing, reached for her own drink, and listened, sipping intermittently.

“Here, I’m not—I’m not Lord of Hell, to be feared and reviled and cursed by everything in existence. I’m not blamed and I’m not at fault and I’m not—I’m not responsible for anything other than my own actions,” he explained. He looked at a wall as he spoke, knowing full well that his sister was sat beside him and yet, he did not want to look her in the eye as he said all of this. “And I’m not what I was up _there_ —part of a packaged set with a list of purposes that I never signed up for in the first place! Being Dad’s Right Hand Angel, never having my own… _thing_ …

“On Earth, I can just be me. And that can mean whatever I want it to mean,” he said. He finally deigned to throw a glance her way he chuckled, smirking.

“You’re looking at me like my therapist does,” he teased.

“I would make an _excellent_ therapist,” she argued.

“You would _not_ ,” he said, dangling his drink in front of her in a mocking fashion. “You would spend _eternity_ trying to tell these people the best way to live their lives, going insane when they choose what’s so obviously terrible for them because it’s _you_ who knows better.”

“But I do know better!” she complained. Lucifer broke into a grin, which she then returned, bobbing her head and scrunching her nose as she added, “ _Most_ of the time.”

“You can’t help but micromanage, sis,” he said as he sipped his drink.

“Because they’re so stupid sometimes!” she said. He spat out his drink as he barked into a laugh. She started laughing too, elbowing his arm, saying, “It’s _true!_ ”

The two Angels laughed together—Raziel leaning against her brother’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her, hugging her closer to him.

“Listen, I love them. I do,” she said. “But sometimes, humans can be just so… idiotic. What you want and need in your life to make you happy is _right_ in front of you but these people just… obsess over self-sacrifice as if their suffering is a gift to someone else! Dad didn’t create these creatures to… to suffer. No one wants that for their children—least of all _Dad_.”

“ _Well…_ ” he started to argue, but she refused to be side-tracked as she kept going.

“But _you_ lot—I mean, _humans_ just overcomplicate things unnecessarily and just hinder the plot themselves, don’t communicate, and so much of the time, they’re their own obstacles to their own happiness and it’s _so_ frustrating!”

“Are you _quite_ finished?”

Lucifer had forgotten how much of a mouth his little sister had on her. And the way she spoke so swiftly, without needing to take a breath, was both impressive and annoying. A little amused smile played on his lips. She moved away from him then as she continued.

“You know it’s like when… when you just… want someone to be happy… and you think—oh, maybe they’re happier without me or they’re better off with someone else, without _ever_ asking them or… making a proper move or being true to them, or… telling them about _my_ feelings and what I really am… or—”

“Alright, alright, I get it—you can _shove off_ ,” he said, pushing her face away by the hand.

She then, in turn, then licked his hand, which he then pulled back to himself in disgust. She made a face at him that then turned into a laugh as he rubbed his palm on his shirt repeatedly.

“I have missed you _terribly_ , brother,” she said, bumping his arm with hers. Together, they were poised to play and she started it off with what sounded like Claire de Lune. He followed suit and, together, they played beautifully.

“ _You_ have got… _everything_ that you need to be happy,” she said. Neither of them looked at each other, though Lucifer threw a glance down her way. She added, “You’re getting in your own way.”

“So, what do you suggest I do about that, sister?” he asked quietly.

“Open your eyes,” she said, her fingers playing faster and faster as the song bid. “Ask yourself—what is it that _you_ desire?”

“That’s my line,” he teased.

“And… what is it that you’re so afraid of that you won’t let yourself have it?”

“That sounds _tragically_ rehearsed, sis.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve said it,” she said with a knowing grin. “So, what is it? What are you so afraid of?”

The siblings finished the song and, slowly, Lucifer set the lid back on top of it while his sister waited for her answer, her hands atop her lap. He could tell that she was dying to fumble with her fingers, that it was killing her to sit so still. But she looked up at him with big, brown eyes that he could never lie to. And Raziel, sweet Angel Raziel, who probably already knew still wanted him to say it. She wanted it to come from him, whatever it was that was hidden in his heart of hearts, and maybe with her presence, he could come to terms with something he’d been trying to deny.

“I…” he started. “When it comes to her?” A pause. “Everything.”

Raziel put a hand on his arm and gave it a soft squeeze.

“So much could go wrong… she could get hurt. She could suffer,” he said. “She doesn’t deserve the kind of pain that comes with being with me. She’s of Heaven. She deserves nothing less.”

“Lucifer, you _are_ of Heaven,” she replied. “You’ve _always_ been the best of us. I never stopped believing that.” He scoffed. “And you don’t get to decide what it is she deserves. _She_ does.”

“So much could go wrong,” he said.

“But then so much could go right,” she added.

“I can’t _risk_ her, Raziel,” he admitted. “I don’t—”

“You’re never going to be in control of the future,” she said, a finger grazing his jaw to make him look at her. And she held him there to her, pressing a thumb to his chin while her finger caressed her brother’s stubbled cheek.

The way he looked at her now, with those dark eyes of his, she thought he looked so young—and so lost. Her heart broke in her chest at the sight of her brother this way and it only made her resolve to strengthen. It was why she came down here from Heaven in the first place. Raziel continued.

“Whatever it is that you’re afraid of… you’re not Dad. None of us are. But part of the whole deal with free will is that you can make your own choices but you’re not free to pick what consequences they bear. That’s just _life_. There are consequences to _everything_ and some of them hurt. That’s how it _works_. You don’t get a free pass and have everything be what you want it to be so easily and comfortably just because you’re you and we’re us.

“We can know more but…” she stopped, licking her lips and pressing them together, closing her eyes, and chuckling at the hypocrisy of what she was about to say next. “We don’t _always_ know better. Well, _you_ don’t.”

Lucifer laughed, curt, but his eyes shone, something sombre hidden in their depths.

“But what if she gets hurt?” he asked. “Her spawn? The douche? Someone _else_ she loves? What if _they_ get hurt? Because of me, because of what we are?”

“You know, she’ll get hurt either way. That’s just the fact of life,” she said, both hands now on either side of his face. “You can’t protect her or _anyone_ from… from life or pain. But you can choose to be with her through it all—good times and bad. For better _and_ for worse.”

He leaned into his sister’s touch and swallowed. He felt her thumb graze softly against the skin beneath his eyes and he looked down at her as she looked up at him and, for a moment, she looked just like their mother looked at him just before she said goodbye. He swallowed.

And Raziel asked, “Is the chance of something more with her worth facing the fear of what being with her might bring?”

He licked his lips and quietly asked, “What if she doesn’t want me? After she finds out everything that comes with me, you know?”

“ _Lucifer,_ ” she scolded kindly. Softly. “Have you _asked?_ What it is she wants?”

He frowned and closed his eyes. He breathed in and sighed, leaning to rest his forehead against his sister’s.

“When did you get to become so wise, dear sister?” he asked. He gave in and held her into his embrace and she smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He muttered into her neck. “Dad should have sent you instead of our idiot eldest brother. I much prefer your company.”

Raziel chuckled.

“Well, I was made this way. I’m bloody _delightful_ ,” she said, leaning back away from his embrace. She then pinched his cheeks and grinned. “Took you a while to catch up to my level. And you’ve _still_ got a long way away.”

Lucifer smiled—a boyish smile, free of innuendo or sarcasm. A peace settled over him that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. An acceptance of the truth tends to do that and, already, he started to make plans in his head of how to declare his feelings and true lineage to the detective. She deserved to know.

But, as he returned his thoughts back to his penthouse and to his sister before him, he looked her dead in the eyes and asked, “So, you don’t… disapprove? Me and the Detective?”

“I have never judged you, brother,” she responded, a hand quick to rest against his cheek. “What I want for you is what I want for everyone.” Her hand traveled further into his hair and her hold against him was firmer this time, shaking him slightly so as to get her point across better.

“I want you to be _happy_ , Lucifer,” she said. “I want you to _let_ yourself be happy. And _you_ get to define what that means for you—that’s what you fought for in Heaven and you’ve got the chance to have it here. _Now._ If it’s her… then I hope to _Dad_ that you don’t fuck it up.”

Lucifer broke into another chuckle and she grinned.

“Raziel!” he said. “Naughty…”

“It’s not, _technically_ , a bad word…” she said, bringing her hands to herself and crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s all in context.”

And just then, the lift gave a soft ding! The lift’s doors opened and in came their brother, looking at his phone, not seeing who was before him.

“Luci, I’m here! What’s so important that—” said Amenadiel, stopping dead in his tracks as soon as he realised who was sat next to Lucifer.

“ _Brother…_ ” she whispered.

“Raziel?” Amenadiel said in disbelief, eyes wide and the ever ominous Angel broke into a smile as he clarified, “ _Sister…?_ ”

As if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Behind him, the lift’s doors closed and started to go back down.

“ _Brother!_ ” said Raziel, running to him, the sound of her heels tapping against Lucifer’s floors, and jumping into his embrace. Amenadiel did not hesitate as he wrapped his arms around his little sister and hoisted her up into the air, her legs dangling happily as she was lifted.

Lucifer rolled his eyes but even he could not conceal the smile on his lips at the sight of his siblings together. He nagged, “You were hardly that happy to see _me_ last night even though you said you missed me _more_.”

But Raziel ignored him.

“Razzie, what are you doing here?” Amenadiel asked, setting her back down on the ground, his hands on either side of his little sister’s face. She glowed as she smiled, making her little dimples prominent on her cheek.

“Came to see you two idiots, of course!” she answered. “On holiday, officially. But I _really_ wanted to see you both.”

“And Father…?”

“We came to an agreement.”

“Wonder what _that’s_ like,” said Lucifer, who was still sat by the piano. He lifted the lid and started to play.

“You should ask Him yourself,” his sister chided.

“Darling, the Old Man’s left me on read practically since the dawn of time,” he said, not looking at his siblings from behind him.

“You’d be surprised,” she said. She suddenly straightened and smirked, throwing a glance at the lift’s doors. “He just… He works in—”

But he cut her off.

“If you say ‘mysterious ways’, I _will_ kick you out of my penthouse.”

“Oh, I don’t intend on staying for very long now.”

“Oh?” Lucifer asked, still keeping his back to them. “Leaving us already?”

“No,” Raziel started. “Amenadiel and I…” She looped her arm around her brother and added, “Actually, we’ve got plans.”

“What?” said the darker Angel, clearly not in the know with what his baby sister knew. “We _do?_ I—I just got here. I…”

“Am I not invited to this part of the little family reunion then, sis?” Lucifer asked, legs swinging as he turned around to face them. “I feel a bit left out now.”

“Well, normally, you _would_ be, but apparently… you’re a bit busy,” said Raziel.

“No, I’m not,” he replied, his brows knit into a frown. She had that look on her face—that she knew something he didn’t. Which was most things, given who and what she was, but there was a mischief to the way she smirked. He might even say devilish. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“What I mean, big brother, is that…” she said, unfurling her wings, while Amenadiel was still bemused by her arm. “ _You’ve_ got company.”

She winked and, with a quick motion, his siblings were gone and in the same second, his lift doors opened to reveal a one Chloe Decker, smiling at him.

“Detective,” he greeted.

“ _Hi._ ”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got... _way_ too long. Also, I'm not fucking around with that E rating, y'all. For real. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this last installment!

“ _Love is not a muscle—_  
_it cannot atrophy from lack of use._

 _Love is an organ—it can always sneak up_  
_on you; the lungs are a much better metaphor for love,_  
_please, always use them—_

 _that inhale is the moment of excitement_  
_when you first meet someone new—_  
_the exhale is that moment of hate we all fear_  
_we will feel if this does not work out_

 _but that moment between breath,_  
_where your body can be anything, that—_

_that is love._

_Love is… … …”_

— Excerpt from “ **[ _Love_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LTjArdM7F4)** ” by Jared Singer

 

 

* * *

  

He was going to kill her.

Bloody, meddling Raziel and her _machinations_.

Lucifer threw a silent prayer her way—one filled with a plethora of swears in the old language of Angels, far before Babel. If he listened carefully enough, he was certain that he could hear the quaint tintinnabulation of her high, light little laugh as carried by the warm current of wind that entered through his penthouse’s open terrace.

The pair of them stared at each other and the tension between them hung in the air like an uninvited houseguest.

Chloe wore her long hair down. In the dimly lit dark of his penthouse, the waves of her hair looked like the reflection of sunlight against the sea—molten sunrise cascading down her shoulders. Her off-white almost-turtleneck jumper looked impossibly soft to the touch. Lucifer swallowed, momentarily unable to speak.

“You… busy?” she asked, finally.

“N-no. I was just—” he replied, gesturing vaguely. In the back of his mind, he was somewhat embarrassed to have been caught in such a state of underdress. He wasn’t even wearing a jacket over his long sleeved shirt and his vest was in desperate need of being pressed. And what was the state of his hair? He didn’t even know and he perished the thought.

He licked his lips and put on a showman’s smile, changing the subject, as he started folding in the sleeves of his shirt until they were rolled up past his elbow.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Detective? Surprise murder case that couldn’t wait until morning?”

“No, nothing like that,” she said. Almost shyly, a wide but trembling smile on her lips that she pressed together. “I… actually thought your sister would be here.”

Lucifer cocked his head with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “If you’re looking for Raziel, I’m afraid you _just_ missed her.”

She didn’t miss the bitterness hidden between his lines. He was, after all, the most transparent man she knew. Especially to her. He was not a play, he was not a carousel of acts in a carnival of lies. His sister said that he wore his heart on his sleeve just lately had he kept his arms up before him, en garde, as if bracing himself for impact.

She saw it now—Chloe has _always_ seen his heart. She _knows_ when it is breaking.

“No, no, I wasn’t. I—” she clarified, quick to jump in. She brought the basket up with considerable and rested it atop the bar. “She came over this morning, actually. She made us scones?”

He chuckled softly at that, rolling his eyes as he pocketed his hands.

“Of course she did.”

“If she were here, I would’ve—I don’t know, returned this basket?”

“Oh, hello,” he said, approaching the basket with a scrutinising stare. After giving it a long, hard look, he pouted his lips and shrugged. “From the craftsmanship, I would wager that the little bugger made this basket herself.”

“ _What?_ ” she said. “You… _can’t_ be serious.”

“In millennial speak, I believe she would be, as they say… _that_ extra,” he said. Chloe laughed and only then did mirth return to his gaze as he added, “With a trademark at the end there as well!”

She kept her smile as looked up at him, biting her lip.

A beat later, he said, “And knowing my sister, she probably meant for you to _keep_ this. You don’t have to return it.”

“Oh,” she said simply. “Well… okay. That works out then, I guess.”

Chloe clapped her hands together, palms sweaty as they brushed against each other over her chest. She swallowed; the air around them, thick and heavy with words unsaid.

It never used to be this hard to speak to him.

Being with Lucifer was the easiest goddamn thing in the world, even back when she didn’t harbour any of these… feelings. These truths that have developed so much into fact that she could not shy away from them any longer. The only obstacles they had to hurdle over were themselves.

‘ _Chains of your own making,_ ’ she remembered Raziel saying. ‘ _You can set yourself free._ ’

Then why was it so goddamn hard to even look at him?

Every instinct told her to run—to embrace the fear and run for high heavens. If you don’t open yourself up to pain, you don’t get fucking hurt. _Again_. But Chloe Decker found herself staying, awkwardly shuffling her heeled feet on his immaculate floor, all out of small talk with the only thing she had left to say being what she wanted to come here to say to him in the first place.

“You didn’t come _all the way_ to my humble abode just to return a picnic basket, did you?” he tried to joke, teasing it out of her with, “Hate to think you made the trip just to—”

She broke.

“Lucifer, I wanted to see _you_ ,” she said, finally.

He blinked once, eyes wide with surprise, lips parted with silence and held breath in between them.

“Oh?” was all he could say.

“I mean—you drop by _my_ house often enough? Usually without invitation,” she followed up, forced levity in her own tone. In the Lucifer School of ‘Dealing with Emotions’, joking about things that felt too real seemed to work out just fine for him. But something about it did not fit right in her mouth and so, bits and pieces of the truth fell from her lips anyway.

“ _Not_ that I’m complaining—though a heads up every now and then would be _great_... I just thought it might be nice to return the favour,” she said, slowly pulling at her finger. Nervous habit. “And hey, you’ve got better booze.”

“That I do...” he said, a faraway look in his eyes. There was a tightness in her chest, and so there too was in his.

“I was actually…” he started to say.

“Yeah?” she said, stepping forward.

“My sister… She—” he said. Lucifer swallowed. “She didn’t put you _up_ to this, did she?”

“What? _No_ , I—” she started but a lump formed just by her throat. Perhaps, it was in his eyes—in the way he looked at her. He held nothing back. Dark, full of emotion—almost pleading, she would say. Desperate for this to be real. Just like she was. Chloe licked her lips and said, “Well, okay, kind of? I guess? But not really… I think she definitely _wanted_ me to. She’s not exactly _subtle_. She just… she said some things. And it just got me thinking.”

A flash, a flicker of a smile on his face. His shoulders relaxed.

“You too, then?” he asked.

“She, uh…” she returned but doubled back, throwing him a look. “Wait—what did she say to _you?_ ”

“Just some things I…” he replied. “Things I think I already knew?” A pause. “I _knew_ I already knew, actually, but I kept denying them, and… there really is no use lying when my sister is around. She knows _far_ too much and she just gives you that _look._ Makes me wish she’d gotten here about two months ago.”

“She’s… really something.”

“That she is,” he said with a sigh. He mindlessly flipped the lid of the basket and saw that it was near overflowing inside. He quirked his brows and pouted. “Detective, this is _full._ Surely her baking isn’t _that_ awful?”

“No! Her scones were great! I…” Chloe tried. “I—I brought you dinner?”

“ _Detective._ ” Amusement now rose to his irises—there was a wonder there, an enchantment. An incredulity about that tried to see if this was real, that this was really happening. He made a sound of along those lines in the form of a quick, sharp but nervous laugh.

“I mean—it’s like, for sharing, obviously, but I, uh—” she said, her hands on the basket’s handle. “I made it myself? And I know, I know, I’m not… I don’t have your… _fancy_ , British culinary expertise or whatever? But, in my defense, I make a _mean_ homemade mac n cheese.”

“Detective, darling, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound nervous,” he said.

It was not a mockery of her; on the contrary, he was beguiled. Endeared. It made his eyes shine. Chloe felt a rush of heat rise to her cheeks and she knit her brows in a frown that didn’t leave her smiling lips.

“I _don’t_ ,” she denied, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You know I’m not _teasing_ you,” he said. “Takes one to know one, I guess.”

“What could _you_ be nervous about?”

“I…” he started but found no words could leave him. Chloe smiled at him, her full lips pressed together, patient as always. He looked into those big, blue eyes and sighed. “I’m not used to this, I suppose.” He picked up the basket with one hand as if it barely weighed anything. He kept his other hand in his trousers’ pocket. “I’ll plate this up then, shall I?”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Want some help?”

“That’s alright, Detective. I shan’t keep you waiting long,” he said, walking to the back of his bar where his kitchen was. “Perhaps, if you’d care to choose our accompanying beverage. As you said, I do have superior _booze_. Take your pick. Whatever you like.”

“I don’t speak wine, Lucifer,” she called out, looking to his more than impressive collection on the shelves. Despite her lack of knowledge, the names on these labels are enough for her to know that a bottle of these is easily worth three paychecks at least. And that’s maybe just for the corks. She’d always known he was rich but… well, _damn._ “Or _any_ alcohol for that matter?”

“Well… reds pair well with cheeses if you’d like my input!” he answered from the back. She heard the tell-tale noises of plates against marble, of silverware against porcelain. He added, “Every bottle in here is certified Lucifer-approved so have at it!”

Chloe looked at the wine cooler just by the edge of his bar. After fiddling with the controls, she managed to get out the first bottle she saw.

 _Screaming Eagle Cabernet 1992_.

She gave it a hard, long look and as the rest of the bottles looked identical to her anyway, she shrugged and closed the wine cooler’s doors. She took two wine glasses and walked to the terrace overlooking the city.

In the dark, the lights of Los Angeles’ cityscape looked like stars.

“Here we go,” she said to no one in particular as she set down the wine and glasses on the table. From beneath her sweater, she pulled out the bullet necklace he’d given to her for her birthday. She fumbled with the metal in her fingers and then clutched it into her hand.

A cool breeze drifted to where she was standing and she thought she might have to brace herself but instead, the wind felt warm—like an embrace.

Like comfort.

Like _courage._

 

* * *

 

 

The Devil and the Detective sat down opposite each other eating homemade mac n cheese on elegant fine china, dining with real silverware, sipping on red wine that was obnoxiously expensive. They shared secret looks, knowing smiles, and not much else.

It wasn’t a gourmet meal, not by any means, but eating together felt genuine. And, for a while, the two only ate in silence. They exchanged some small talk here and there but they shared a relaxed quiet between them—the language of comfort between two souls who did not have to fill in the space with forced niceties. And in this space, they felt safe—untouchable by Heaven and Hell, a universe of their own making.

Though it could not always last for very long and soon enough, the air around them hung heavy. As if the breeze were a living entity, breathing down their necks, begging them to just _get on with it_. Chloe felt that pressure and she imagined that so did he. But neither one of them wanted to be the one to break it first—it was too nice of a moment.

Then, Lucifer cleared his throat. Chloe swallowed.

“So, where’s Beatrice tonight?” he asked, spooning another mouthful in.

“With Dan for the weekend,” she answered.

“And Mazikeen?”

“Don’t know,” she said. “Probably with your sister?”

“Ah. _Really?_ ” he said, pondering. Another spoonful in, he gestured at her with his fork as he swallowed and said, “Making her way around the family, isn’t she, our Mazikeen? For what it’s worth, Raziel _would_ be much more compatible companion for her than Amenadiel. They both possess an extensive knowledge of female—”

“ _Lucifer,_ ” Chloe chided softly, cutting him off. She shook her head.

“What?”

“I didn’t come here to talk about your sister,” she said. “Or… anyone else, really.”

He blinked. Somehow, she noted just how impossibly long his eyelashes were—especially when he looked at her like _that_ , sincerity radiating off of him like sunbeams. “Then what _did_ bring you here?”

“ _You,_ ” she answered quickly, simply.

A pin drop could be heard in the silence that followed. His penthouse was so high up that not even Los Angeles’ traffic could permeate and invade the setting of shared serenity they had created.

He straightened his spine at her answer, plate at hand resting precariously at the shift in his balance. When she said it out loud, it didn’t sound quite as frightening as it felt and yet, saying it felt so simple in hindsight. So easy. So _good_.

“Listen, I…” Chloe started. With her own fork, she started moving around the food on her plate—unable to look him in the eye.

She spoke with hesitation, with uncertainty. After all, despite his many affirmations that he harboured no grudge against her and never thought less of her for what had happened with Pierce—you cannot just look someone you’d hurt in the eye and it didn’t matter if it wasn’t intentional. He tiptoed with her now when there was no work between them and she’d felt it.

She’d _missed_ him.

He might as well know that she did.

“We don’t really hang out now. Just us. Without all the police work and the murders and everything else, and after all of that stuff with… well, you know, and I… I don’t know. I just thought it would be… _nice._ ”

She knocked her knees with his, finding it in herself to give him a small smile. He knew exactly what she was talking about – the man that had no so much as caused the rift between them as much as he did make a home in it while it suited his own needs, all the while causing the both of them immense pain in the aftermath of it all – and when she said it out loud, to him, everything got easier to say.

“I _like_ spending time with you, Lucifer,” she confessed, finally meeting his awestruck gaze. “If that’s okay.”

His lips twitched to a small smile while hers brightened at the sight of the shine coming from his deep, dark eyes.

“I could think of worse ways to spend Saturday night,” he uttered softly. Fork down on the plate and then the plate on the nearby table; he rested a hand gingerly atop her knee. He licked his lips, leaned forward to her, and said, “Detective, I—”

“Chloe,” she interrupted. She put down her plate by her wine glass and leaned into him as well, resting her own hand against the back of his. “Please. We’re not at work.”

“ _Chloe,_ ” he said, the taste of her name on his tongue was a flavour he relished. He turned his hand around so that he could hold hers. His thumb brushed against her knuckles. Lucifer could feel the tremble in them but when he looked into those bright blue eyes, he saw no fear. “…Is this a date?”

“I…”

A pause.

Déjà vu, if she’d ever recognised it, and their faces were so close.

She felt her heart hammer in her chest and she could feel the slight shake of her limbs just by sheer proximity to him, she gathered. Her lower lip trembled and she bit it between her teeth. She didn’t miss the way his gaze drifted to that action and how his eyes darkened ever more at the sight of it.

But he was wrong – there was fear. Not fear of him but fear of _this_. Whatever this was. Whatever this could be.

And in the wind, all she could hear was that same reminder from the night before. _Don’t be afraid_ , it said. So, she swallowed, ducked her head down to hide her grin, and said—

“Yes?”

His answering grin could have outshone the sun. Lucifer perked up and said, “Splendid!”

Chloe laughed and gave his fingers a little squeeze. “I figured I owed you one, after…”

“Chloe, darling, you don’t owe me a damn thing,” he said. He dared to lean in closer, suggestion heavy in his lilt, charm dripping from his honeyed tongue. “Have any specific… _activities_ in mind?”

She took her hand away from his and leaned away, laughter on her lips as she gave an amused but disbelieving shake of her head. She should have expected this – and, in hindsight, she did – and yet that didn’t stop the flutter of a heartbeat in her chest, the heat in every part of her as if she could feel her blood boiling beneath her skin.

Lucifer thought she flushed so, so prettily.

The colouring of her in soft white, the faintest rosy pink in her cheeks, and her plump, full lips that he knew to be so deliciously soft against his—he’d damn near do anything to keep her exactly like this, exactly this happy, for all the rest of time eternal.

He simply flashed his devilish grin, pleased with her mirth.

“Not the things _you’re_ thinking,” she playfully retorted.

He leaned back himself, a hand against his heart with his features contorted in mocking disgust.

“Sweetheart, I take offense in that,” he said. “I’ve played Monopoly with you and your spawn of my own _personal_ volition. I’m not _always_ as concupiscent as my reputation dictates.” Chloe laughed, looking away from him and grinning from ear to ear that her cheeks started to hurt. He raised a finger to her, to gesture as he added, “And, to be clear, I quite like spending time with you too. Clothed or not, despite there never having been record of the latter.”

She quirked her brows and her head bobbled as if contemplating on that. She reached for her wine glass, looked up as if to consider it, and returned her gaze to him with a tease of her own.

“Well, not _never_ ,” she said, taking a sip of her wine.

“Touché,” he said, reaching for the plate of food. He gathered a mouthful to his fork and said, “Not exactly the naked fun time that _I_ was thinking but that’s fair.”

He ate the food and as he chewed, she asked, “How is it?”

“I’ll admit, I was a _bit_ worried,” he admitted.

“Oh really…” she said, narrowing her eyes. Her jaw dropped and she mimicked his false expression of offence and teased him right back. “ _You_ think I’m a terrible cook!”

“Now, now. I never said you _were_ , love,” he argued. “But you do purchase a lot of your lunches from the precinct’s vending machine. And you _are_ Caucasian so I’m afraid that works against your favour in this regard.”

She rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders.

“Fair enough,” she said. Jokingly, she added, “At least there aren’t any raisins?”

“And you used more than salt! I’m really proud of you,” he said. “But it _is_ delicious.” She squinted at him. Lucifer, unfazed, looked her in the eye and said, “You _know_ I don’t lie.”

“I’ll have you know I even used my fanciest cheese for you,” she said, swirling the wine in her glass.

Already, she was starting to feel the faint buzz of warmth from the wine as the alcohol coursed through her veins. She was no lightweight by any means but that wine was some _truly_ good shit.

“You honour me,” he said. With gusto, he finished the last of the mac n cheese on his plate, and when he swallowed, he gestured with his fingers on his lips in an affected kiss to the air. “Positively scrumptious.”

“I’ll cheers to that,” she said. He took his glass and clinked it with hers.

After a sip, she licked her lips. Lucifer tried not to concentrate on the fact that the wine, the lip biting, and the smiling had made her lips just _that_ much more red. Succulent. He didn’t even try to hide that he was staring just a little bit, the tip of his tongue running along his bottom lip.

“Not bad for a second date?” she asked, raising a brow.

“Mmm,” he said. “The first one being—”

“When your horny flight attendant friend dropped by.”

“Yes, _that_ ,” he said. “Does that _really_ count? Can this be a do over instead?”

“Hmm, let me _think_ about that…”

“Oh, come on now,” he whined.

“Okay,” she said. “First date. Officially. No… surprise visitors, no—murders?”

“That _you_ have to attend to.”

“Yeah, all of that,” she agreed. “Just…”

“Us.”

“Sound good?”

“Sounds divine.”

“And…” she started, biting the edge of her lower lip. “ _Slow._ ”

“Slow?”

“This… us,” she said. “If… if we’re going to do this… can we… take it slow?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I _mean_ …” she said, the rim of her wine glass against her lower lip. “I don’t want to rush things. After…”

His entire face darkened. His posture straightened and stiffened.

“Understood,” he said. “Of course.”

“I’ll have you know, though,” she said, knocking his knee with hers. “I don’t _usually_ put out on a first date.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well. Disappointing. But… fair cop.”

“Really? That’s it?” she said. “No objections? _Begging?_ ”

“Chloe, darling, if you want me to _beg,_ I’d be _more_ than happy to oblige you _any_ kink you desire,” he said in a manner that both made her want to laugh but also told her that that was no exaggeration. “But I’m the Devil; I’m not _evil_. I know when no means no. I don’t push.”

“I know. I know you don’t,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Besides, I’ve waited this long. I’ve fucked up my fair share of chances, as it were,” he said, casual and _almost_ flippant. Nothing mean-spirited about it. He was simply stating things he believed to be factual. Lucifer offered her a little smile, a faint twinkle in his eye.

“I’ll wait for as long as you want me to.”

Well, _fuck_.

That did it.

He’d spoken so purely, so earnestly that it damn near broke her heart. Because Lucifer never lied – and she knew that for her, he would wait. Mr Sex-on-Legs himself would turn celibate if she asked. He’d go to hell for her if she asked (and she didn’t know that he’d already had—twice over). A weight dropped in the pit of her stomach and it yearned to fly out from her lips—an unspoken and overdue confession begging to be set free.

Chloe swallowed and set her glass down. He noted the change in her posture immediately and he mimicked her actions, setting his glass down as well, and taking both her hands in his. Her shoulders curled into themselves as she gave a sharp exhale through the nose.

“Lucifer, look, I…” she started. “I need to tell you something.”

“ _Wait,_ ” he said suddenly, his grip on her clasped hands tightening.

“ _Lucifer…_ ” she tried but he had his head ducked low.

“I know,” he said, looking back up at her. “I know what you—” He licked his lips. “ _I know._ ”

Something primordial stirred inside her—an ancient, knowing kind of fluttering. Almost an instinct but it felt more like a memory from a dream. The way he looked at her then had her heart beating in her chest the way a hummingbird flapped its wings. She could hear the echo of its beat all the way up in her ears but there was something to the way he’d said that that told her there was more. So—

“But…?” she prodded.

“If you’re…” he said. It was his arms’ turn to shake. He scooted closer to her but found that that was not enough. Lucifer got then on his knees, almost as if in worship—he could practically hear the sermons of contrition in the back of his head.

This was it, he knew. He’d known from the moment that she stepped into his penthouse that this had to happen before anything else and yet, and yet—the fear lingered. A primeval beckoning to fly far, far away from that of which made him feel so afraid. He licked his lips and looked to her eyes, as if praying for courage.

 _Let me be brave,_ he prayed to her.

A warm wind drifted toward the terrace and wrapped them both in its embrace. The moon shone brightly above them in a starry, cloudless, California night sky. Just as good a setting as any for a confession like this.

Let Heaven be his goddamn witness.

“I need to be honest with _you_. I _want_ to be honest with you. Properly honest, in a way that you’ll actually _believe_ me. Before anything else, I—I _need_ that. I need to do right by you, like you deserve. And before I can ever even _hope_ for anything… truly _more_ with you, I need you to know who I am. _What_ I am.”

She closed her eyes and sighed through her nose. “Lucifer, we’ve been over this—”

“No, Chloe…” he said, bringing her hands to his forehead, then pressing his lips to her knuckles, then pressing her hands against his cheeks. He rested his chin atop her clasped hands then and begged her through pleading, bright eyes. “ _Please_ , darling, please let me do this.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding and watching him with bated breath.

“I…” he started. “I thought I knew what my Hell was until I saw you with—with _him_. And when you told me that with him… that you _lo_ —”

“Lucifer,”

“Ever since, I’ve _desperately_ wanted to tell you but I didn’t want you to feel like I was taking advantage of you while you were vulnerable. It was just… never the right time. And I suppose, it’ll never be the right time, so here goes anyway. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my love.”

He kissed her hands again and she gave him a watery smile.

“I have been honest with you… from the _start_. A bit of omission, some bluffing here and there, yes, but I…” he said, licking his lips and swallowing. Fear kept building up in his chest and it was all he could to do just keep swallowing it all down. “I’ve _always_ been honest with you. It’s just—you never seem to believe me. And for a while now, that’s worked in my favour. I’d given up trying to make you see… well, _me_.

“Nearly broke Linda when I told her. Charlotte took it fairly well—in hindsight, I suppose this way _is_ better—you don’t really deserve to see the face of the Devil, you’re far too good to have to deal with that in your memories. Linda really drew the short end of the stick on that one,” he said with a sharp laugh that did not quite reach his eyes. She could feel his hands shaking and all the while, her heart beat harder and faster in her chest. Her lips trembled and her whole body shook, try as she might to stop it. “And I know this is really, _really_ confusing for you right now and I apologise, Chloe. Truly.”

She took her hand from his grasp to rest her palm against his cheek, her thumb stroking his stubble covered skin. He leaned into her touch, his exhales becoming shaky.

His own heart felt as if it might implode at any given moment and yet, it wasn’t in his heart that he’d felt the most of the emotion. It was in his lungs. Every inhale had him remembering the taste of her lips, the flavour of her name on his tongue, the fluttering of her laughter that he kept in his chest. Every exhale, every relief that had come when he’d realise that she was safe—that she was still here.

In the space between – in the moment between breath and every moment thereafter – was when he loved her.

She deserved to know; he knew that now.

In his long, long life in this universe, these were emotions that he’d never truly felt before. Even for his own Father, He had never felt this kind of adoration. His palms had become sweaty and his knees started to ache but he looked up at her still, unable and unwilling to let go of this chance.

“For a while, I… I just didn’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to get hurt. And I was afraid of what would happen if… _when_ you find out,” he said, a tear falling from his eyes. It took that for her to realise that she was crying too. “I want you to know what you’d be getting yourself into— _wholly_. If you choose me. Because I may be reckless and obstinate to my own self-righteousness to a _fault_ but _you_ … you are the first thing in my life that I have ever been _truly_ afraid to lose.”

“ _God,_ Lucifer…” she whispered, tucking her lips in.

“I don’t deserve you, Chloe Decker. And I know that. I _know_ that I don’t,” he said, letting go of how she’d just had to mention his Father’s name, but he could not be distracted. This was far more important than Him. So, finally, he said, “But I _want_ you.”

She inhaled sharply. “Oh, boy.”

“I want _you_ ,” he said. “But before you… even _consider_ wanting me back… or _choosing_ me… I need—no, I _want_ for you to know who I am. _What_ I am.”

“Lucifer, _whatever_ it is—” she started, emotion in her throat making her choke up, but he cut her off.

“Don’t,” he begged. “Please don’t… because you _don’t_ know, love, and I—I don’t think I could take it if you… say it… and then find out, and _then_ leave. I’m _not_ —” he paused, ducking his head and resting his forehead on her knees, as he collected himself. She could feel him trembling before her. And he whispered, “I’m not strong enough for that.”

Chloe pried him from his position of prayer and lifted his head so he would look up and face her. She leaned in and said, “There is… _nothing_ you could say. Or do. Or _be_ … that could make me want to be anywhere else but here.”

She put her hand back against his cheek.

“I’m here for you, Lucifer. _Always_. You won’t ever lose me, I promise.”

“Chloe…” he whispered in reverence, rising to his feet and freeing her hand from his grasp. As he did, he pressed a kiss against her forehead and the top of her head. He spoke with a sense of calm, then. He stopped shaking and when he towered over her like that with the pale moon lighting his form, she very nearly believed in Angels after all.

“I won’t come near you unless you say so. Say the word and I…” he said. Lucifer inhaled and sighed. “You’ll never have to see me again, I _swear_ to you.” He clasped his hands in front of him and rested them over his stomach. His dark eyes met hers – so bright, so blue, and so beautiful. He memorised how she looked up at him in that moment – nervous and expectant at the same time – and he braced himself for her fear.

“Please, darling… _please_ don’t be afraid of me,” he prayed one last time.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he unfurled his wings.

“ _Holy shit,_ ” she cursed, nearly falling back over herself but catching herself at the last second.

“That’s one way to put it,” he muttered.

True to his word as ever, Lucifer did not budge. He stood before her – majestic in his discipline, a divine sight to behold – and Chloe simply stared. For however beautiful his wings here, they were nothing to the glory of him. For the pure white of his wings made him look so bright, as if light emanated from him—her own personal sun.

 _Lucifer_ , she remembered from back in those forced Cathecism classes in middle school… _Light Bringer_. It made sense.

To look upon him like this was to believe in God Himself but lose her faith in the divine in the same breath. For in his eyes was not pride of an arrogant Angel cast down from the Heavens, but fear—a fear that this one thing, this one revelation could be his own personal apocalypse. Forget ice, forget fire – losing her to fear of him would have been a Hell even he could not survive.

She choked on a breath as she swallowed; trying to regain what sense of self had flown away to whatever ethereal plane of existence his wings had emerged from.

“Lucifer, I…” she said as she tried to stand on wobbly knees as she faced him. He still did not move. She reached up as if to touch them, but stopped herself, and looked back at him for his permission. “Could I…?”

He gave a curt nod, his eyes still gleaming with uncertainty as he watched her with a hyperfocused eye, aware of any twitch that might suggest that she would run from him. And she didn’t.

When her fingers made contact with the impossibly soft and smooth feathers that connected to the bone, he shivered. He could not help the moan that escaped his lips as she touched his wings. His eyes widened and his dark pupils dilated.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“No,” he answered. “They’re just… _sensitive_. To you in particular.” A pause. As he adjusted his posture to accommodate the sensation, his wings shook a little in accordance with the movement. It was enough to make her choke out a little laugh. He added, “That’s… actually quite new.”

She walked around him; the soft blade of her fingertips barely brushing against his feathers, and saw how his wings protruded from his back. This was no trick of the light or optical illusion. This was some real shit, she thought, and she didn’t quite know how she was still upright at this point.

Before her was an actual, proper Angel of the Lord – the first damned creature in existence, the first Fallen Angel. And he had offered himself and his whole heart to her on a platter, his feathers were hers to touch and explore, and he was hers.

He was _hers._

“So you’re…” said Chloe as she came back around to face him. “You’re _actually_ …”

“Lucifer Morningstar,” he finished for her. “At your service.”

“The scars…” she said. “From before.”

“Ah, yes, I had them cut off then. But they grew back. Remember when I went missing and got kidnapped? They reappeared then,” he answered. “Surprise little present from my Father, I imagine. There’s no real way to get a reply from Him. He doesn’t exactly have a return address.”

“Oh, my _God_ ,” she said.

“That’s the one, yes.”

“Holy _shit,_ ” she whispered. She placed her hands on his chest, her touch drifting along the fabric of his silk vest, his white button down shirt. “ _Wow,_ ” she muttered. Her hands snaked up his neck and to his cheeks. It took everything for him to remain standing as he was but as her hands on his chest explored, he bit back a whine and tried to swallow it down.

“Angel is a little better than an axe murderer which was, I’ll admit, a fear.”

“You’re not…” he started. He tilted his head, knit his brows, and bore his eyes into hers. “You’re not _scared?_ ”

“No,” she answered simply. “Never.”

“But…” he said, his fingers digging into his palm as he kept his hands firmly to himself. “Why?”

“Do you _want_ me to be scared?”

“No,” he answered quickly. “But… I’m the Devil! Satan Himself! Lord of Hell for crying out loud! I just so happen to not have my devil face anymore but the point _stands_.”

“And what _is_ the point?” she asked.

“Well…” he said, losing words just as quickly as he thought of them. “When humans see me, they tend to think they’re going to Hell. And then the begging starts. The denial. The fear.”

“So, those people…” she said, realisation creeping up her spine like a snake. “You mean like Jimmy Barnes…”

“Saw me for what I really am.”

“And so _you_ thought that I…”

“It’s a fairly standard reaction, Chloe. You can hardly blame me for preparing for the worst.”

“No, I don’t blame you, but…” she started. “Lucifer, do you trust me?”

“You _know_ I trust you,” he said.

“Then _trust_ that I know who you are. I have always known who you are—I know what counts. And I trust myself enough to believe that you are not…” she said. “You’re not what was done to you.”

“So, you don’t think I’m evil?” he asked, his voice quiet. Almost shy.

It was all she could do not to kiss him right there.

She sighed, emitting a small sound of amusement from her lips—not quite a laugh but a titter of disbelief. Yet, she understood his need to ask—his need to know her answer.

“Lucifer,” she started. She had to stop herself from calling him a pet name like he constantly did for her and she had a feeling that it would not be long until she did. She tucked her tongue between her lips, the tip of it moistening them. “I could _never_ think that.”

He threw his head back and sighed loudly in relief, his shoulders relaxing and his wings sagging under her touch. She smiled as she watched him. His lips trembled. Chloe reached for the back of his neck and pulled him back to face her. Their foreheads pressed together. They kept their eyes closed.

Lucifer’s hands could not help themselves as they found her waist and circled around her form, pulling her to him. She brushed the tip of her nose along the bridge of his and she could feel his hearty, trembling laugh.

“You are _arrogant_ and sometimes condescending and… perpetually horny even at the _worst_ of times, sure,” she said to him and they both chuckled, grinning. “But, sweetie—you’re not _evil_. I’ve seen evil. And you’re not it.”

He’d nearly wept. Instead, he folded her into his embrace with his arms and wings. Chloe reciprocated with her arms around his neck while he buried his nose into the crook of hers. The force of his embrace lifted her from the ground and she felt his hand in her hair.

Despite their racing hearts, the warm rushing blood in their system, their lungs felt calmer and their breathing slowed and became even. As if air had settled into place and the winds of change have done their duty. The dust has settled now and this, _this_ is what they had survived those hurricanes for.

He set her back down on the ground, his hands resting on her hips as he pulled away just ever so slightly. Lucifer rested his forehead against hers again and his eyes remained closed; as did hers. He swallowed a nervous breath.

“Darling, could I…?” he asked. “May I…?”

“C’mere,” she said, pulling him to her in a kiss that tasted like a covenant.

Like a long eternity of darkness – his own 40 days and 40 nights of suffering that had lasted for eons and an age – had ended and finally, there was light. If he listened closely enough, Lucifer imagined that he might have heard his Father promise that never again shall he be consumed with sorrow and loneliness that he had been damned to in Hell.

Her kiss tasted like that promise – that promise of new life everlasting. Her arms were his own personal paradise eternal.

And if Heaven were to open up before her, the gates to the Silver City beckoning her to come to her heavenly home, Chloe would have turned it all away in that moment – and run right back on home to him.

How any other lips, how any other embrace could have matched how she felt with him was a feat that not even God Himself could accomplish. In her mind, she practically dared Him to do just that.

But as she kissed him, the thought of Lucifer’s family came rushing into her train of thought and she broke off from him suddenly and uttered, “Your _sister!_ ”

Despite her clinging to him while his hands were still on her waist, he cocked his head away from her and pressed his lips to a tight line. He folded his wings back in with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“That’s a bit of a buzz kill,” he said.

“Woah,” she said, hands on his shoulders and lightly pushing him away so as to get a better look—as if they might reappear so long as she was standing at a different angle. When the wings appeared to be nowhere in sight, she asked, “Where do they _go?_ ”

“They’re always there,” he answered, tucking a stray hair away from her face and behind her ear. He had an amused little smile on his face and as he continued on with his answer, he traced the edges of her jawline and the high points of her cheekbones with the back of his finger. “They’re just… in a different dimension, of a sort. Unseen to the naked human eye. You saw them because I wanted you to see them.”

“So, I’m, for real, dating an Angel…” she said.

“More like the Devil himself,” he said. “But, yes, semantics aside. For real.”

“But, okay… _Hell…?_ ” she asked.

Lucifer sighed, a faint little smile on his lips.

 _Here we go,_ he thought.

Yet, he found none of the annoyance that came with it. When Linda first found out about it and finally came around to the knowledge of the wicked and the divine, he’d found himself impatient and irritable with her endless questions. These were not truths that he wanted to revisit – he’d, after all, come to Los Angeles to reinvent himself.

But with Chloe, he hadn’t minded in the slightest. He _wanted_ her to know. Invited her questioning, even. After all of the dodging and deceit – though the latter hadn’t come from him, not in the slightest – it was refreshing to be so open with her. She did, after all, deserve to know. If by the grace of his Father she were to let him into her heart, he wanted her to know just who was at the door.

Chloe Decker had been used and lied to enough and Lucifer Morningstar would be damned into solitary nothingness if he were ever to contribute to that; if he were ever to allow her to be so woefully deceived again. No.

_Never again._

So, he took her hand and pulled her back into his penthouse and sat her down onto the couch while he sat on the opposite end, crossing his legs and leaning back.

“Hell is under new management, I would imagine. Don’t really know, couldn’t care less,” he finally answered. “I retired.”

“You can _do_ that?”

“Not technically but I’d like to see my Father try…” he said. A beat later, he amended that with, “Try _again_ , at least. He _has_ tried. Much to my chagrin.”

“So your _sister_ …?” Chloe asked, tucking her legs in and resting her elbow on the back of the couch, placing her chin on the palm of her hand. “And Amenadiel?”

“Both Angels, yes.”

“And the _thing_ you do… the _desire_ thing?”

“Innate gift,” he said. “I can compel people to reveal their desires. Bit like confession but more _fun._ ”

“Why?” she asked. Lucifer raised a brow at that.

“Bit existential, that. But all right…” he started. “Well, I suppose… I suppose, I was the first of my Father’s children who ever wanted _more_ than Heaven. I’d never known anything else and, to me, humans got the better end of the deal there so, I _wanted_. And that was enough to get me cast down in the longest running smear campaign that the world has ever known.”

“Okay but not to tempt fate and get smited or anything, but… that doesn’t sound so bad,” she said. Lucifer smirked. “God damned you for _that?_ ”

He considered it.

He rose from where he was sat and walked toward his shelves to pick up a bottle of bourbon. He poured himself a hefty glass and downed it in one go. He refilled it and poured a regular shot for her. As he did all of that and walked back to his place on the couch with both drinks and the bottle perfectly balanced in his hands, he gave his answer.

“You know how if your child were to draw on the walls and set the kitchen on fire, you’d ground them and take away everything they loved for two weeks as punishment—but if your _puppy_ destroyed the entire living room, it would get a time out for two seconds and suddenly, it’s still the best little pup?” he said.

He handed her the drink and she took it wordlessly with both hands. Chloe nodded.

“Well, to Dad, _you’re_ the puppy. And by you, I mean all of humanity. Slap on the back of the hand and then you’re right as rain again. Hell, on the other hand, is—or, well, _was_ —my corner where I was supposed to have a good think about what it is I’ve done for all of eternity.”

Lucifer took a sip of his drink, sighed as the fire burned in his throat. As an afterthought, he added, “Not to say I don’t like puppies, just to clear that up. I _do_ like them.”

“So, you got the whole evil rep because you _wanted_ ,” she concluded. “You… coveted.” She blinked and bit her lip, shaking her head. “That doesn’t _sound_ evil.”

Lucifer practically beamed at her, raising a glass to her. She returned it and took a sip of the bourbon. With the tip of his tongue, he traced his top lip and collected the words of his explanation in his mind.

“I do like to think it’s not. Desire in and of itself is not _inherently_ evil but what you _want_ usually speaks a lot about what kind of person you’ve chosen to become. Your desires can often lead you to _do_ evil acts that contribute to your soul’s _guilt_. More often than not, it’s what sends you to Hell,” he explained. “My Father created humans with the free will to choose lives for themselves. After they were dispelled from Eden, they started to _want_ because suddenly, Paradise was no longer available to them. And they start looking for it… for _anything_ that can make them feel that primal memory of what it was like to be in a state of utter, _perfect_ contentment. It’s different for everyone now but the desire for that same kind of peace remains at the core of your soul.”

“Can other Angels do that? What you do?”

“No, not exactly, but every Angel has _something_.”

“But your compulsion thing doesn’t work on _me_.”

“Yes,” he answered. “But that’s just me. Perhaps it’s just my Father trying to be funny. Or, worse, poetic. It appears anything about _my_ divinity doesn’t affect you but my brothers and sisters can. Namely, Amenadiel. Maybe Raziel.”

“You said every Angel has something… what did you mean?”

“Think of it like… the X-Men,” he said. “Every Angel has a special gift that’s specific to—well, our Father’s design. Dear Amenadiel was the first Angel—the first-born son. He can control time—slow it down, more specifically. Bit like Doctor Who except not British and not white—basically, the BBC’s worst nightmare.

“And _Raziel_ , on the other hand… she knows every _fact_. Good luck besting her at Trivia Tryout. As soon as something is a truth universally acknowledged, _she_ knows about it. And, clever girl, she remembers _everything_. The only Being in all of Creation who knows _more_ than my little sister is our dear old _Dad_. And _she_ can draw out curiosity whereas I draw out desire—but neither of us lies. More out of principle than anything, really.”

“She… knows _everything_ ,” Chloe echoed.

“So to speak,” he said. “More like the past and the present. The future is beyond her pay grade, I’m afraid.”

“So, let’s say, if I asked her who ends up on the Iron Throne on Game of Thrones or… who _murdered_ somebody…”

Lucifer chuckled into his drink and finished it. He set the glass down.

“Ah, well, _no_ …” he said. “Funny little thing about Raziel’s gift is that she’s unable to share these facts _if_ the origin of the fact has deemed it a secret and she can only share it once she’s received their proper consent. Hence, one of her monikers… Keeper of Secrets. Sounds like an off-brand, cancelled Harry Potter sequel if you ask me.” Lucifer poured himself another drink. Then, he continued. “Our Father came up with that little caveat for her _after_ she tried to give Adam and Eve directions on how to get back to Eden.”

“Wait, hold up,” she said, holding up a finger. Lucifer tilted his head, his silence encouraging for her to continue. “So… Adam and Eve… that was really a thing? They were… real people?”

“Well, _yes_ , of course,” he answered. “Adam was a bit of a prick. Eve was _much_ more fun.”

He had that twinkle of teasing delight in his eyes again. Usually, Lucifer reviled going down his truly vast memory lane and yet, when Chloe Decker asked, he found that he was only all too happy to answer anything she had to ask, thrilled at the opportunity to now not hold anything back.

Yet still, he watched her reactions. Nothing but truth ever came from his lips but, surely, there had to be a point where things might prove to be too much for his favourite, favoured detective.

He cocked his head, raised a brow, and asked, “Anything else?”

“So much,” she whispered. “So, _so_ much.”

“I gathered,” he said simply. “You can ask me anything you like. Provided that I know the answer, of course.”

“Okay… oh, here’s something,” she said. “What’s _Maze?_ ”

“Demon torturer from hell with a heart of gold… most of the time. You and your family are safe with her, I swear to you,” he promised. “She’s the very best of them.”

“ _Okay,_ ” was all should could say.

That one would take her a hot minute for, if nothing else, what did it say about her _daughter_ that her best friend in the world was a demon? Then again, she _had_ taken to Lucifer pretty much off the bat. Perhaps Trixie had the right idea of it.

And by the explanation he’d given, there was no such thing as evil creatures – only evil deeds. By the sound of hell, it was a land that trapped you in your own eternal guilt. Demons, by design, were simply the guards of the punishment. It explained so much, she reasoned, why Mazikeen was the way that she was.

The woman was not evil, after all, and only after exposure to her, her daughter, and her friends that the demon was able to process and feel other emotions apart from sadism. You cannot miss the light, she thought, if darkness was all you had ever known.

In a way… of _course_ , Lucifer wanted so badly to leave Hell. Down to his God-given name, he was a creature of the _light_. A morning star. He never belonged down there in the first place and it filled her with a righteous rage that he had suffered for so long for the simple sin of _wanting_.

Chloe pondered on this and Lucifer simply watched her think, patient for a change and hardly a quip from him unless she asked for it.

“But what about Charlotte? How is she your _stepmom_ if you’re…?”

“Actually, Charlotte _died_ ,” he replied. “My Mum, the Goddess of all Creation, escaped Hell and possessed her body for a while. When I gave Mum Her own universe to prevent a Celestial Family Feud, She left Charlotte’s body but still repaired it enough that Charlotte’s soul was able to come back into it from Hell. I reason that Father allowed that to happen as recompense for ol’ Mum messing her whole life about while wearing her skin.”

“Back up,” said Chloe. “There’s… a God- _dess?_ ”

“Yes, well… it all started with a Big _Bang_ , you know,” he said, smirking. “The Bible didn’t get _everything_ right, not by a long shot.”

“Okay…” she said. Looking at him, she realised that she had never quite seen him as relaxed as this. As vulnerable as this. This was not an interrogation and he was certainly no perpetrator for her to examine.

To anyone else, he might have changed in her eyes. After all, it wasn’t every day that the Devil revealed himself to you. And yet, all Chloe could see was how this tall, righteous man looked at her with shy, heartfelt eyes that did not quite know how to place himself with her still.

“I… I really need to sit down.”

“You _are_ sitting down,” he pointed out.

She looked down at herself and saw that he was right. She was holding the glass of bourbon she’d forgotten was in her hands. Upon seeing the beverage, she could taste the remnants of its fire on her tongue. Her legs were starting to fall asleep; she stretched them out, slowly, and letting her boot-covered feet to the floor. Chloe downed the last of the bourbon and set the glass onto the table before them.

“This is… a _lot_ to take in, you know?”

“Take as much time as you like,” he said softly. “More of a third date reveal, this, I suppose.”

Lucifer leaned forward and, with hesitation, rested his hand on her knee. She looked at his hand and watched as his thumb caressed the fabric of her jeans just by her leg. Whether that was unconscious or not, she didn’t know; it endeared him to her all the same.

“I am sorry, Detective—”

“Chloe,” she corrected.

“ _Chloe,_ ” he amended. “I am so sorry. And, still, there’s _so_ much more to tell you.”

“Why are you sorry?” she asked, tender and quiet. She reached out and placed her hand on top of his again, holding on to him.

“Because…” he started. Lucifer bowed his head, huffed out a sigh, and looked up to face her. “You didn’t ask for this. For _any_ of this. I don’t expect a human to have to deal with all of this Celestial nonsense. I’m bloody immortal, for Dad’s sake, and even _I_ can barely make heads or tails of it all, let alone _you_.”

His tone was laced with sorrow and regret.

“You have enough to deal with as it is, Chloe,” he said. “And telling you all of this is, perhaps, the most _selfish_ thing I have ever done.” A pause. He lifted his hand – the one she was holding – and brought his knuckles to rest upon her cheek. She kept it there; her skin, soft and damp with sweat. He confessed, “You _deserve_ to be happy. You deserve someone who treats you right and actually means it. Me telling you is… it’s me trying to somehow hope that I could still be… a _part_ of your happiness, at least. In whatever way you’d have me, if you’d allow it.”

“Why did you push me away for so long?” she asked in a whisper. His hand came down from her face to rest on her lap but she still held on to him anyway.

“Because I didn’t know if it was real,” he replied. “If your feelings were… _put_ there somehow, against your will. That you didn’t have a choice. And I didn’t want you to be used by something you can’t control.” He licked his lips. “If you were going to choose me, I want _you_ to choose me. Not my Father, not anyone else.”

“You thought it wasn’t _real?_ ”

“Eternal punishment can get monotonous if it’s the same thing over and over again,” he said. “It’s why demons switch up punishments every few decades or so. They get bored. Why should Dad be any different, right?”

“You thought your Father got bored.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if He did,” he confessed. “It took… _losing_ you to… to _him_ , I think, for me to realise I’d been wrong. You had the choice all along and I’m sorry. If I’d realised it sooner, then maybe—”

“Hey,” she stopped him, willing the sudden flash of recent memory away. No. Pierce was not _fucking_ welcome here. “None of that. Don’t do that to yourself.”

“I should have been better to you,” he said. “You deserved better from me. Better _than_ me.”

“Has…” she started. “Has anything changed?”

“What do you mean?”

“Now that you’ve told me… now that I know… and _everything_ we’ve been through…” she said. “Lucifer, has any of that changed? Was any of it a lie?”

“No,” he said.

Chloe smiled at him then, her blue eyes shining like the skies of Heaven itself.

“Then you’re still just _you_ , right?” she asked.

“I have always only ever been myself,” he confessed. “I have always only ever been yours.”

“Then…” she said, sliding closer to him. She put a hand up against his cheek and looked him in those big, sad eyes, and she knew. That nothing had changed at all.

“ _I love you,_ ” she told him.

She might as well have punched him in the face. Lucifer felt what remained of his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. The wind left his lungs and, for a moment, he’d lost the ability to breathe. His bones felt as if they’d turned to dust.

“Chloe…” he said, disbelief the only colour on him then.

“Nothing has changed, Lucifer,” she told him, smiling. “Not how I feel. Not who you are to me. And you’re my partner. My _best_ friend. And I _love_ you. And I’m tired of pretending that I don’t.”

He fell to her then, his forehead taking its place home against hers.

“I love you,” he whispered back to her, the tip of his nose just barely touching her own. “I love you so _bloody_ much.”

“I know,” she said.

Chloe moved to hold him into her embrace. She wrapped her arms around him and he felt his arms around her. She felt his hand on her head, her fingers in her hair just by the back of her neck. He smelled like bourbon, spice, and home. She sighed and relaxed in his embrace for she’d always loved being in his arms.

Strength was one thing but to be held as something precious was something else entirely. Lucifer held her as if she were sacred – and, maybe to him, she was. An unholy man, how he’d fallen from grace, and yet he still felt so, so divine.

“This is… a _lot_ for a first date,” she said.

They both broke into a laugh in each other’s arms. She buried her nose into the curve where his neck met his shoulder and breathed him in before she leaned away. “I still have so many questions, but… I’m going to need some time to, like, _process_ everything first before I can take in any more.”

“Of course,” he said. “Anything you need.”

“I don’t want to go yet, though,” she said. “Is it okay if I stay?”

“Please do.”

 

* * *

  

Lucifer Morningstar didn’t like dishwashers.

They were needlessly wasteful and even he wasn’t quite that hedonistic. The only benefit it had was that it saved time but what was time to an immortal? While he would never admit to it, the manual act of cleaning dishes by hand was also somewhat cathartic. Then again, he usually had cleaners handle this themselves.

Perhaps he only had a certain bias this time around, given present company. For Chloe Decker was beside him, rinsing off and drying out the plates, silverware, and glasses that they’d used for their little dinner.

It seemed so mundane, so boring – and yet, it thrilled him to no end.

For they were changed people and nothing would ever be the same for them again. Yet, here they were – as if absolutely nothing had shifted between them. Perhaps it was because nothing actually did. The truth did not change; it was only now the pair of them both knew it. No more secrets, no more things unsaid.

Finally, _finally_.

“You know, I just realised something…”

“Yeah?” she asked, setting a plate onto a drying rack.

“I’ve never had a girlfriend before,” he said, wonder and amusement in his lilt.

Chloe choked on the laugh that overtook her. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

“Don’t get me wrong, darling, I’ve had a _lot_ of sex,” he said, smiling so hard that the little dimples hidden behind his stubble, just by the side of his lips came out in full force. “But this is… _new_. And it’s… fascinating. And exhilarating! Bit like _really_ good cocaine but… more intense. Lasts longer too.”

“You know I’m still a _cop_ , right?”

“Dare you to arrest me,” he said, his voice reaching that dangerously low octave that reverberated right down to the pit below her stomach. She could only purse her lips together in an almost pout, sucking in and biting the insides of her cheek to keep from smiling. He added, “Between you and me, I look quite good when handcuffed.”

“Don’t even go there.” He chuckled. But then, Chloe leaned against the sink and dramatically slammed on the surface of it. With that same hand, she brought it up to gesture at him with her finger. He could only tilt his head and blink expectantly.

“But wait, hang on… what you’re saying is… _I’ve_ got more experience than you.”

Lucifer broke into a laugh – and, damn him, how could a laugh sound like opera when it came from him?

“I suppose you’re right. Though I’d say I’m more quality over quantity in this regard.”

“You _would,_ ” she said. As they finished up and took off their latex gloves, they walked back to the living space of his penthouse. So much had changed – and yet nothing at all had. And despite her reservations, Chloe had no urge to run away.

“I’m still kind of wrapping my head around this,” she said, falling back to the couch.

“I would imagine you are,” he said, sitting beside her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into the half embrace, quietly revelling in the normalcy of it all.

“It’s weird,” she started. “Don’t reveals and confessions like that usually end up in big make out sessions that turn into wild sex or something—”

“Let the record show, darling, that I would _not_ be averse to that particular cliché.”

“Tough shit, babe,” she said with a chuckle, turning her head to him.

Her pet names for him came more easily to her now; less slips of the tongue and more instinct, more about _want_. Lucifer practically purred at the thought of her calling him these things in more salacious contexts. But, right then, he was content to lounge casually with her by his arm – wanting for absolutely nothing else for the first time in his life.

Chloe continued, “Or like… you know? Dramatically storming out the doors and you’d have to chase me in the pouring rain, and _then_ make out?”

“Very valid fantasy,” he said, reaching upward to play with her hair just by his fingertips. When a breeze flitted through, he caught a whiff of cocoa and coconuts from her hair, and he practically salivated for a taste of the rest of her. But instead, he said, “I could always fly upside down, Maguire-Spiderman style, and—”

“Let’s… not,” she said, lightly hitting him square in the chest with the back of her hand. “I’m pretty sure _God_ didn’t give you back your wings so you can experiment with some kinky shit.”

“Well, what does _He_ know?” he asked sarcastically, capturing her hand that had swatted him across the chest and bringing up her fingers to his lips, kissing the tips with feather light kisses. “And if it’s quite alright with you, I would _really_ rather not bring in my Father into our still, temporarily non-existent sex life?”

“Okay,” she said, taking her hand from his grasp and letting her fingers trace along the lines of his stubbly jaw. He smiled at the sensation, a warmth spreading from the core of him as if he’d just swallowed the sun itself. “It’s just… it’s like finding out your boyfriend, Peter Parker, is actually Spiderman. There isn’t a manual on how I’m supposed to process this.”

“I would think I’m more Superman than Spiderman, surely.”

Chloe made a face.

“I don’t really _like_ Superman,” she said. “No offence. I’m just not a DC kind of girl.”

“How’s Iron Man, then?”

“That makes me Rescue, right?”

“Is Miss Lopez rubbing off on you, darling?”

“No. It’s Trixie,” she said. “And doesn’t the whole Angel thing already _make_ you a superhero?”

“Possibly. But I don’t have a secret identity.”

“Neither does Iron Man.”

“In the Golden Age comics, he does.”

“Oh, my God.”

“We have _got_ to get you a new saying,” he whined, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Chloe reached over to kiss him on the cheek and he brightened almost immediately.

“Superhero talk aside, I do _want_ to process this, don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I’m just thinking out loud.”

Lucifer pulled her by the head to him and kissed her temple. His nose in her hair afterward, he breathed her in. “I’m truly sorry, love,” he said. “You know you can ask me anything you like, if you’d like to further sate your curiosity.”

“It’s funny…” she started, snuggling further into his embrace. She brought her legs up again and folded them under her so she was sat atop of them. “In the tarot reading Raziel gave me last night… she asked me what it is I want. And what was it I was so afraid of that—”

“ _I wouldn’t let myself have it?_ ” they said at the same time.

Chloe gave him a look and raised a brow. Lucifer pursed his lips and they formed a smug little smirk.

“That little _shit._ I _knew_ that line sounded too rehearsed,” he muttered, mostly to himself. When he faced the amused good detective again, he sighed in faux defeat. “I’m afraid my dearest, darling little _baby_ sister played Matchmaker.”

“Hey, if it works…” said Chloe, shrugging and biting her lip to keep in her grin.

“Annoying little bugger,” he said with absolutely no annoyance in his voice. He matched her grin with his own. “You know, I will _have_ to get her back for this. She’ll never let me live it down.”

“I really don’t know how I didn’t pick up on it sooner that she was your sister.”

“And what is it, by the way?” he asked. His voice dropped to that low octave again as he went on. “What is it that you _truly_ desire?”

No magic, no tension, no divine intervention – just words. Just a man asking the woman he loved an innocent little question. And she smiled at him with those bright blue eyes he would gladly go to Hell a million, a _billion_ times over for.

“This. All this time, it was this,” she said, her chin on the curve where his neck met his collarbone. Her voice was quiet and he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin, the scent of bourbon and wine from her lips. His heart was hammering in his chest. And he would not trade these moments with her for anything. “ _You._ ”

“And what were you afraid of?” he asked, just as softly.

“Losing you.”

“Then in that respect, we were perfectly matched.”

“So, what do we do now?”

“That, my love… is entirely up to you.”

 

 

‘ _His wristwatch would delight in the feeling of the crisp wind rushing over its face..._ ’

“Why on Earth is the wristwatch a character in this movie?” he asked, his legs stretched and resting atop an ottoman. “It’s got feelings and opinions and everything—it’s a _watch_ , for Dad’s sake!”

“Oh, would you just _watch it_ ,” she said, her legs over his lap while he cradled her to his embrace.

They’d settled on a movie.

Stranger than Fiction (2006) just so happened to have been playing on demand and she asked that they watched it. Lucifer obliged, stating that he had never seen this one before. He was very quickly proving himself to be a nightmare of a movie date – but she supposed that that was what she got for falling in love with the Devil himself.

He had to have _something_ wrong with him.

The film progressed and Harold Crick was counting brush strokes, steps, and time to the second. Lucifer scoffed and gestured at his television.

“I take it back. Suddenly, the watch is so much more interesting compared to this sad creature. This man is so utterly _boring_.”

“This is somebody’s Hell, isn’t it?” she asked, her expression – not amused. Chloe threw him an impassive look. “They just want to watch a movie but some demon’s just by their ear— _constantly_ talking. Forever.”

“My, _my_ ,” he quipped, a devilish little smirk on his lips. “ _Someone’s_ got a knack for torture and punishment. Consider me aroused.”

“When are you _not_ —” she started but when he opened his mouth with his eyes gleaming with glee, grinning in the innuendo she would not let him say, she cut him off and said, “Don’t answer that.”

Lucifer gave a show of keeping his mouth shut and shrugging. His expression saying, ‘ _Well, your loss._ ’

“Truly, though, it _pains_ me how many humans actually live their entire lives like this,” he said as Harold when on his day-to-day life at the IRS that was so precisely timed by his wristwatch. “So much of the time, their Hell turns out to be just the same. And they’re guilty that they didn’t just… do _more_ with their lives.”

 

***

 

“Oh—hang on,” Lucifer said as Emma Thompson’s narration was something Will Ferrell could now also here.

“Oh, he’s becoming self-aware! That’s exciting!” A pause. “Wish my Father sounded more like Emma Thompson. Might actually give a damn about what He’s got to say if He did.” He nodded knowingly at Chloe. “I’m telling you right now, my Father is _not_ quite that eloquent. Dad forbid He try to be _funny_.”

“You are… _so_ adorable,” she said, not knowing why she was resisting the urge to kiss him. So, she did.

The disbelief and glee that washed over his face, that went straight to his dark, warm eyes – that look would never get old.

 

***

 

When Harold Crick went to audit Anna Pascal, Lucifer knew that the man would be in trouble.

“He’s going to fall for this one, isn’t he?”

“How did you know that?”

“I know that _look_ ,” he said. “That look is my native tongue. I _invented_ that look.”

‘ _He couldn’t help but imagine her naked, stretched across his—_ ’ said Emma Thompson as the camera zoomed in and slow down on Maggie Gyllenhaal’s features. However, his attention was not on the screen but on the woman beside and on him.

While her legs were on his lap, she was not quite sitting on him. Which worked out well enough for him, considering that she’d asked to take things slow, and that narration meant he could adjust himself just so on the couch without her noticing too much how he’d strained against the fabric of his trousers.

How he could not help but imagine _her_ – Chloe – naked and stretched across his…

Lucifer cleared his throat.

Chloe smirked.

 

***

 

“So, she’s not Dad Almighty, then,” he said as Emma Thompson made an appearance on screen, picturing what it might be like to jump off a building.

“No,” she said, just as Queen Latifah came in and introduced herself as Penny.

“I almost bought it, too,” he said. “My Father _would_ have a boring human name like bloody _Karen._ ”

‘ _I don’t know how to kill Harold Crick,_ ’ said Karen Eiffel, as played by Emma Thompson, then trying desperately to light a cigarette with trembling fingers.

 

***

 

It started slow, just like she asked, but when she started to notice, she could not help but pick it up.

Lucifer could not stop touching her. It was little things that he did throughout the film as he slowly but surely stopped giving commentary and truly gave into the narrative. When Harold Crick started fantasising even more about the little anarchist baker, he started giving her little kisses on top of her head, to her temple, on her forehead. With every sigh, she settled and snuggled closer into his chest.

She had never been held quite like this before. He didn’t complain once. Because while previous partners have held her in their embrace, and she’d held them, the way Lucifer had his arm wrapped around her was almost territorial. He did not do it consciously, she noted, as his eyes were glued to the screen.

It was instinct for him, she discovered, to want her.

 

***

 

‘ _Most comic heroes fall in love with people who are introduced after the story has begun; usually people who hate the hero initially…_ ’

“Darling, remind me—you used to find me _repulsive_ , yes?” he whispered to her ear.

“Absolutely loathed the very core of you, babe.”

 

***

 

‘ _Ms Pascal, I’ve been odd. And I… I know that I’ve been odd, and—I want you.’_

Chloe looked at him only to see that he was looking right back at her. He reached to kiss her forehead but that was not enough and her lips sought his. She did not know if she had ever kissed someone so much and yet could not stop smiling into it.

Lucifer wrapped his arms around her waist and deepened their kiss. When the tip of her tongue ran over his bottom lip, she felt his moan against her and she felt that moan travel through her veins and right down between her legs. She giggled – honest to goodness _giggled_ – at the sensation and hid her face into her favourite spot on his chest.

She folded her knees in and his arms were all around her. Chloe Jane Decker had never felt so warm and safe in her life.

“I should send _Raziel_ some flours,” he whispered. “By the _bloody_ truckload.”

“Mmm. Count me _in_ ,” she whispered back. “She might actually be Trixie’s new favourite now.” He leaned back at that, offense on his features. He might not be particularly affectionate toward the little spawn but he’d be damned – well, even more damned – if he would allow tiny Decker’s affections to be stolen from him.

“She said you’d give Trixie piggyback rides if she asked,” Chloe clarified.

He huffed.

“I would _never_ —” he started. She laughed in his arms and she felt his hand by her lower back rub at her. “The _nerve_ of her!”

 

***

 

“ _When I was a young boy… my mama said to me…_ ”

It didn’t surprise her that Lucifer knew the song that Harold started singing as he played on the guitar. His voice had always been one of the most attractive things about him – though she wasn’t about to tell him that. Just yet.

She bobs her head along to the music and grins.

When Anna kisses Harold and they start making out on the couch, Chloe felt him stir and adjust himself again underneath her. She couldn’t help the little chuckle she gave out as she did so, folding into herself even more and pressing harder against his chest. She felt his chest shake with laughter as she did so and the gentle, barely there caress of his thumb along the fabric of her sweater.

“Give you any ideas?” he whispered to her ear.

“ _Way_ too tame,” she shot back.

“That’s my girl.”

His smile could have outshone the sun’s inevitable supernova.

 

***

 

“He doesn’t die, does he?” he muttered just as Harold discovers the interview. “Oh, tell me he doesn’t die. He _can’t_ just die, can he?”

“You’re invested in this now, aren’t you?”

“I’ll admit, it’s not how I imagined spending my first night with my first girlfriend but I must say, I’m thoroughly entertained.”

When Harold tries to see and bargain with Karen, she felt him reach for her hand. He absentmindedly started playing with her fingers and she could not focus on the film. When Harold begs for his life and tries to find a way out the narrative that has been written for him, she sees her boyfriend get glassy eyed. As if he were about to cry.

It was in that tell-tale tremble of his lips as well and the redness that rose to his cheeks.

She supposed that that was one of the many reasons she loved him, she thought. Lucifer never put on any shows of false emotions for anyone. Despite his blatant, poorly conceived attempts to push her away, he could not lie. He was someone she could rely on, though not quite predict. And he wasn’t afraid to feel when it came down to it – at least, now he wasn’t.

He would be the type of man who’d cry at beautiful stories. Because when Harold got hit by that bus and Karen started smashing her typewriter, she saw a tear fall from his eyes.

“No…” he muttered, palming his cheek.

Chloe could only smile.

 

***

 

‘ _Because it’s a book about a man who doesn’t know he’s about to die and then dies. But if the man does know he’s going to die and dies anyway, dies willingly, knowing he could stop it, then… I mean, isn’t that the type of man you want to keep alive?_ ’

“Oh, that is _brilliant!_ ” he exclaimed.

“Told you so.”

 

* * *

 

 

When the credits started to roll, she only just saw the time at the corner of the television screen.

Had she really been at his penthouse for three hours?

And has it only really been _three hours?_

It felt like time had dilated and expanded – an eternity compressed.

Beneath them, Lux was still in the prime time of the night, though it had already crept to early Sunday morning by now. The pulsing lights, the loud bass music, the scantily clad dancers on top of tables… and yet up here, it was the picture of serenity. She never wanted to leave.

“What did you think of it?” she asked, her fingers in the barely there caress along the stubble by his chin. The plump skin of his lips. Her voice was low, nearly developed a husky timbre to it.

“Well, it was no _Hot Tub High School_ but it was okay, I’ll give you that,” he teased.

Chloe threw her head back, her cheeks hurting from how she kept smiling at him. It felt idiotic to be in such a state of absolute joy. Her laugh was the only music he sought now – every sound that passed from her lips as long as she made them in bliss.

He’d wanted this for so long that even if it weren’t real, he did not want to wake up.

Lucifer knew he didn’t deserve this but he wanted to stay in this dream anyway. Especially when he was so close to her eyes, when she was looking at him like _that_.

“I love you,” he said to her, never quite getting used to how it sounded like a hymn to her and he would sing this song for all the rest of his life if she would let him.

“I would have thought a movie night in on a Saturday would’ve been too boring for you,” she teased, her hands now drifting toward the collar of his button down shirt.

He could feel her breathing start to become laboured; he only noticed because he felt very much the same way and has done so for the last two hours.

“Chloe, darling, I’ll take whatever you give me. And this is already more than I deserve,” he said, a hand resting on her cheek, brushing away her long hair.

Lucifer had always appreciated this look on her specifically; free from her signature tight, pristine ponytail, she looked more angelic than he could ever hope to be. The side of his lip twitched to a crooked smirk as he looked her in the eye and dropped his gaze to her full lips (he made sure she knew exactly where he was looking). He leaned in closer to her, the tip of his nose brushing the skin of her cheek.

He felt her swallow down a breath and it made him smile.

With a light kiss to the edge of her jaw, just by her ear, he felt her sigh. His hand by her cheek then drifted to her neck. With his thumb beneath her chin, he manoeuvred to push her head back just a little, and she was more than eager to follow his direction, and he kissed her pulse point slowly. Languidly.

Chloe felt the brush of his tongue, flat as it licked against her skin, right down to the sudden tightness between her thighs. A sharp exhale passed her lips as her breath hitched. He didn’t leave that spot by her pulse and with the way he kissed, licked, and sucked, she knew that space on her skin would be purple by morning.

“ _Lucifer,_ ” she whimpered.

He had a hand pressed against her throat – not quite restricting her air but it did make her feel lightheaded. She gripped at his muscled arm while her other hand busied itself at the back of his neck, scratching at the skin there and pulling at his short hair. That got her a groan from him, a sound that she felt all over her skin as it washed over her like a wave.

“But do feel free to do anything you like to me,” he whispered into her ear and the low thrum of his voice by her ear was enough to get her eyes to roll to the back of her head. She keened. “I’m all yours whenever you like.”

Chloe pulled him away from her neck to look at him, brushing her nose against his. She bit her lip as she smiled. “You know, this is probably the happiest I think I have ever been.”

Awed was the only way she could describe how he looked at her then.

“You’re my pancakes,” he muttered, just almost kissing her but not quite. “I—I meant…”

“I know what you meant,” she said.

In the film, Professor Hilbert gave Harold the dilemma of whether or not he ought to choose life or the pancakes. At first, it seemed as though the choice might be obvious – anyone would choose life over pancakes. But he’d posed that that was highly subjective, based on the kind of live being lived and the quality of the pancakes.

From suave and seductive to nerdy and adorable at the drop of a dime, it seemed that Lucifer Morningstar could do it all.

“I love you too,” she said.

He couldn’t help himself then and kissed her. Fully and wholly, with every ounce of skill and passion that he had (which he would then say was a _significant_ amount). She moaned at the intensity of it. His hands were circled at her waist and he angled his face up to kiss her for she was starting to get on her knees, with him between her thighs.

Chloe started laughing as she kissed him, her hands on his face, and she could not stop. Her fingers loved the feel of the hair on his face – not too coarse, but not quite soft. Lucifer’s hands started to roam, though never quite going into territory to which he did not quite know yet if he was invited.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, trailing kisses then to the corner of her lips, down the line of her jaw, and to her neck.

“You don’t—” she started but he kissed at a spot by her neck that made her breath hitch. She very nearly cursed then but she could feel the arousal just start to seep into the fabric of her undergarments. Chloe, still grinning from ear to ear, pulled at him by his hair. His kiss-swollen lips were parted with wonder. “You don’t know how often I dreamt of you like this this.”

Lucifer beamed at her. “Well, give me a bit of time, love. I’ll make _all_ of them come true.”

She kissed him, loving how he felt beneath her like this. When his palms pressed at the soft fabric of her sweater, he could feel the warmth of her flesh beneath it. His thumbs brushed by the curve beneath her breasts, making her hips roll on him. She started trailing her own kisses along his cheek, the line of his jaw, and his neck – the same trail he’d laid out on her skin earlier – and when he felt her hands drift to the front of his button down shirt, he couldn’t quite believe what he was doing.

He pulled away as she started to undo the buttons of his shirt and took her hands into his.

“Chloe,” he breathed and she flipped her hair back as she brought her face back up to meet him. That sight alone was enough to make his trousers feel just that much tighter. “What happened to waiting?” he asked, eyes never leaving hers. “I thought you wanted it slow.”

“I _do_ want it slow,” she said, smirking from above him. “We waited three _whole_ hours, Lucifer. That’s pretty slow, right?”

He grinned, breath caught in his throat. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” she told him. “Keep going.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Baby, I want you to keep going.”

Breathless and enraptured by her, Lucifer gave her everything he had.

His kisses went from teasing to bruising. He made his desire known when he pleaded for her mouth to open, where his tongue met hers. The sounds she made went straight to his trousers. He moved his lips to her neck where she knew he would be decorating her pale skin with the marks that he’d been there.

His hands pushed her sweater up and his hands, soft and hot and tender, found her skin. With the palms of his hands, he pressed at her middle. His nails were manicured and short, yet they could still scrape at her skin, making pleasure shoot straight up her spine.

“Oh, my _G—_ ” she almost said but he pulled away almost immediately. He raised a brow at her, almost scolding. His lips were pursed, nearly a smirk. Chloe bit her lip and made a face at him. “Right. Sorry.”

“When in doubt, _my_ name works,” he teased. “Or, really, call me anything you like. Just not Him, yeah?”

“Gotcha,” she said.

“Good?” he asked, that cocky grin on him that she loved so goddamn much. She wouldn’t give him the benefit of her answer just yet, however, so she only bit her lower lip and nodded.

Lucifer kissed her and fire roared through her veins. When he finally started pushing up her sweater over her breasts and off of her, her little bullet necklace bounced against the soft, golden bronze of her sun-kissed skin.

“Do me a favour and don’t take it off again,” he said.

The straps of her bra started falling from her shoulders. In the back of his mind, he highly appreciated the colour on her. Royal blue – a spectacular contrast to the gold of her skin, of her hair – with black lace detail. All the while, her hands were roaming along his shoulders, his arms as he made his way down her chest with his kisses. In one quick motion, he unclasped her bra from behind, and he had her bare chested before him.

Lucifer wasted no time, then licking her nipple with a slow, languid flourish. He angled himself so that she could watch him. Her lips were parted as he placed his around the sensitive flesh of her nipple and sucked.

“Holy _fuck,_ ” she said. Chloe felt him rumble against her, chuckling as he suckled on her flesh, and she breath came out in shaky, winded laughter. She gripped at the hair at the back of his neck; not quite pulling him away but she grasped at his hair enough for it to hurt. At least just a little.

He trailed small, chaste, wet little kisses along her chest as he made his way to her other breast, giving it the same treatment. Chloe felt herself grow more aroused in her panties – the pulsating tightness was there, seeking friction, and she rolled her hips over him, which got him to moan. With a harsh, strong tug of his hair back, she pulled him back enough so she could kiss him fiercely, already missing the taste of his lips.

Her hands busied themselves with the buttons of his shirt and silk vest. He leaned forward, hands keeping her close to him as she divested him of his clothes. Neither of them knew where they landed; both of them were beyond caring.

Still kissing him – with his hands still desperate to keep her close to him – she rose from his lap and pried the button of her jeans open. When he tried to rise from the couch, Chloe pushed him back into it.

“You sit right there,” she told him, taking off her boots and socks, and pulling down her jeans and soaked underwear and kicking them to the side.

“Copy that,” he replied, grinning while he held her naked form as she straddled him.

He could smell the scent of her arousal and she had him salivating. His eyes darkened with lust and it delighted him to know that hers when she was in this state was a siren stare. Her eyes were all oceans—all consuming and inviting; all he wanted to do was drown in them, let her fill his lungs and drag him deeper and deeper into where no light could touch them except the fire they made with each other.

Chloe kissed him then, smiling against his lips as he kissed her back without hesitation. Her hands cupped and squeezed at the flesh of her ass, and they travelled further down to the smooth, supple skin of her thighs. She rolled her hips against him as he touched her and it was _agony_. He groaned as much to that effect.

“You doing okay down there?” she teased.

“You know I’m getting you back for this,” he teased right back.

“Counting on it.”

His hands were at her back as she started kissing and sucking on his neck, leaving marks of her own. When she bit down at the tender flesh at the curve between his neck and his collarbone, he swore and gripped tightly at her ass, massaging and pulling and leaving scratches where he could. Chloe reached down to the button and zipper of his trousers.

With an assisted lift from him, she managed to get his trousers and boxers down to his knees. He slid further down his couch to allow her further room, his legs spread just so with his feet firmly on the floor. His cock stood erect to her, at full attention, and when she stroked him with one hand, he nearly lost it. Lucifer threw his head back as she wrapped her hand on him with a firm grip. Her other hand by his neck, she pulled him up to her to kiss him and he mindlessly returned it.

Her fingers messed with his impossibly soft hair, his impeccable styling coming undone at her touch and leaving her with luxurious curls. She combed through it while she kissed his neck, gripped at his hair when it suited her, and all he could do was let her. With a roll of her hips, her wet lips brushed against the underside of his cock and he bellowed out a groan.

“Which one of us is meant to be the _Devil_ here?” he said, resisting the urge to throw his head back as she rolled her hips on him again. “Bloody _hell_ , woman.”

She grinned and ran her tongue along his skin then nipping and biting at him along the underside of his jaw. Lucifer’s legs were trembling beneath her, she could feel him, but his hands felt so good and so steady as he ran them up and down her thighs. With a last roll of her hips, she decided that she could not take it anymore.

“You’re _clean_ , right?” she asked, breathless.

“’Course I’m clean. I’m a responsible Devil,” he said. “You need me to—?”

“No, it’s okay,” she said. “IUD.”

Lining him up with her, Lucifer could only stare as she tried to take him inside of her. Chloe hissed as the girth of him stretched out her muscles and she gasped. She barely had a third of him all the way in when she had to stop and let him rest there inside her.

“Slow, love,” he cooed. “Take it slow.” With the tips of his fingers, he brushed her hair off her face. Hand on the side of her face, thumb caressing her cheek, he told her, “Chloe, darling. Look at me.” She did. “You alright?”

She could barely keep her eyes open but she managed to nod. “I’m okay. It’s okay, it’s just— _fuck._ ”

“Take it slow,” he repeated. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

Chloe bid her muscles to loosen up and she sunk lower down onto him. Lower, and lower, and lower until he was buried in her to the hilt. Lucifer found it hard to breathe and bid for himself not to think about just how good she felt around him. Tight, warm, and deliciously wet; the smell of her so wet for him was intoxicating.

“ _Lucifer,_ ” she whispered.

“You alright, darling?”

“Y-yeah, I—I’m okay,” she said, resting her forehead against his. She sighed. “So much better than I thought you’d be.”

“And did you think of me often?” he asked, his lips grazing lightly by her cheekbone. She felt him drag his lower lip across her skin so, so slowly; coupled with that and the feeling of him inside of her, she keened.

“ _So_ much.”

“I thought of you too,” he confessed.

“I love you,” she said, kissing him quickly but having to separate at the same second for she could not suppress the moan from her lips. Lucifer smiled at the sight and snaked his hand to hold her head. He kissed her lips, her cheek, her eyelids, her forehead.

“I love you too,” he whispered back to her.

Chloe moaned above him and rolled her hips again, rising from him just so only to fall back. He held her face still, wanting to see her, while the other had his hand on her waist. She started rolling on him slowly, her muscles still getting used to how it felt to have him inside of her. She felt stretched and sore, yes, and yet the momentary pain was turning into sweet, smooth, silky pleasure as he filled her. Breath caught in her throat, she choked on a sob.

“ _So_ good,” she mewled. “And _don’t_ say I told you so.”

Lucifer chuckled, lifting his hips to meet hers in an upward thrust. She felt so slick and so wet around him that the scent was near enough to overwhelm him. He bit down at her neck as she rolled on him.

“You’re _exquisite_ , Chloe,” he murmured into her skin, leaving kisses on every part of her that his lips could reach. “ _Heaven sent._ ”

More and more, the way she rolled and grinded on him was not enough. With significant force and lift from her thighs, she rode him. _Hard._ The tip of him inside her kept hitting that sweet, delicious spot that she loved and she loved him without restraint. She mewled and keened with every thrust.

Lucifer watched the delectable bounce of her breasts, the way the bullet necklace moved against her chest as she moved on top of him. His hands gripped at her waist so hard that she knew there would be bruises there come morning light. His upward thrusts matched her for strength and the slapping of their skin, slick with sweat and sex, was the only beat that their moans and groans sang to.

No _Wreckless Eric_ song blasting in the background for _them_ to fuck to – all they needed was the symphony of each other, in perfect harmony in this… the oldest, most natural dance since time immemorial.

“ _More,_ ” she pleaded, her voice keening high as she reached that peak.

So, he gave her more.

Lucifer grunted and groaned, giving her exactly what she asked for, and watching the way sweat beaded down her body, the bounce of her breasts as she rode him like this. His lips sought out her nipples then, sucking on them as if he were starved of her, while his cock slipped in and out of her with slick, wet noises that were true music to his ears.

“Lucifer,” she moaned. “ _Lucifer._ ”

There it was.

She was close; he knew it, from the clenching of her muscles around him from beneath. His hands roamed on her body, his hands large enough to grip her stomach and have his palms press against her pressure there. It made her insides feel tighter and she could feel him inside her—how smoothly he came in, the force and strength of him, and the delicious way he filled her.

“You feel _so_ good,” she said. “So, _so_ good.”

“Heaven’s got _nothing_ on you, darling,” he said, panting as he exerted every effort to give her exactly what she deserved—which was everything he had, and then some.

Her thighs trembled and she held on to his shoulders as she rode him with every ounce of strength that she had. Her blue eyes bore into his, darkened and dilated, and they looked at only each other as she neared that height, that restrictive way pleasure coiled in her body like a spring.

Higher and higher she went, as he went faster and harder up inside her. He thought of nothing else but her pleasure, of having her reach that peak. Lucifer held himself off, pained concentration on his face as gave her everything he had.

When she came, she came with a voiceless scream – her mouth was wide open and yet the words and wind was stolen from her lungs.

“That’s it, Chloe,” he cooed, marvelling at the sight of her coming apart for him, savouring the image in his memories until the photograph of it in his mind would be seared to his very soul.

Chloe’s spine curved as she threw her head back, her hands somehow stabilising herself on his knees, as he kept thrusting in and out of her, trying to prolong her high. His hands were still by her waist, squeezing her tight and releasing her to breathe intermittently, letting her have the longest high she’d ever had in her life.

As she reached the tail end of her orgasm – her limbs reduced to practically nothing as they hummed with a kind of electricity that left her hairs on end, making her feel as if she were at the peak of a drunken buzz – she felt Lucifer reach his release when he moaned her name into her skin, sending warmth up inside when he came and she felt that heat rush and reach her spine.

Chloe bowed her head and rested her chin atop his mop of sweaty, curly hair, breathing hard, as she clutched on to his arms like she would to a lifeboat just before she drifted off to sea. It made sense, considering how much of a shipwreck her body felt after being loved and fucked like that. She could feel him breathing between the valley of her breasts, panting and trying to regain himself just the same.

But where she’d been expecting him to start to soften inside her upon his release, he was still _just_ as hard.

“You _cannot_ be serious,” she whispered with shaky breaths.

Lucifer, quick to glean her meaning, chuckled as he slid back up on the couch with her on top of him. “I did tell you,” he said, high and breathless. “ _Incredible_ stamina.”

“Show off,” she teased.

Chloe kissed him then, intensity simmering down to sweet and lazy as she recovered. He returned her kisses, of course – quick ones that he peppered all over her flushed face. She glowed with the sheen that came with sex and sweat. Yet despite that being, undoubtedly, the most intense orgasm of her life (so far), exhaustion had not yet plagued her.

On the contrary, she was more awake than before, despite the fact that her eyelids were heavy. Her body felt like it was floating, like even nerves she didn’t even know she had felt like open livewires. His every touch was electrifying, jolting her awake.

“I have to say, though,” he murmured as he kissed along her neck. “I always imagined this would first happen on my _bed_.”

“ _Later,_ ” she promised. “If you can keep up.”

“Chloe…” he said, awed by her. “You just keep on surprising me, don’t you?”

They kissed for a long while.

He took that time to finally kick off his trousers that had managed to pool around his ankles and he kicked away at his socks and shoes.

Her arms were wrapped around his neck, too tired to do much of anything else, and happy to let him take over. His hands were anything but idle as Lucifer touched her with reverence, as if he wanted to explore every inch of her over and over again—and he did. He did want to.

“What else have you dreamt of, darling?” he asked, quiet and low. “Come on now. Tell me what you want and I’ll make it yours.”

At that, he rolled his hips from under her and her senses went haywire as he was still buried deep inside of her. Chloe moaned at the sensation. And he held her body closer to him, her still sensitive nipples on her breasts brushing against the sweat-soaked skin of his body, and she wanted to _scream_.

She’d known he would be good—his reputation preceded him, of course. But this… this wasn’t _human_. And he wasn’t. He was divine.

“The piano,” she whimpered. “You’re playing but you’re also, oh _fuck_ —” His lips reached her pulse point again and he was sucking and kissing her skin there in a way that made her whole body feel like it was about to burst into flame at any given moment. Chloe swallowed back a breath and tried to speak. “You’ve got—”

“Go on,” he whispered.

How did she never believe that he was the Devil before right then when he so obviously was? Especially when his voice got that low, that sultry, that honeyed just by her ear? Everything about him invited sin—no wonder the road to Hell looked so goddamn good if he were at the end of it. His breath was so warm against her skin and the sound of his voice sent shivers down her spine, making her arch back.

“I want your tongue on me, Lucifer,” she moaned. “ _In_ me.”

“You want me to eat you out, is that it?” he said, voice suddenly high with mischief and delight. “Chloe, love, I thought you’d _never_ ask.”

Lucifer lifted her as if she weighed _nothing_. Which should not have been a surprise, given that she has been witness to his incredible strength on multiple occasions, but despite her many dreams of him like this, she never once imagine how light it would feel to be carried by him. Chloe had been carried before, her legs have wrapped around other waists in her life, and yet she never once felt weightless—as light and carefree as air.

The sensation made her laugh and he smiled at her then, carrying her in his arms.

Had he _always_ been so muscular beneath the bespoke, three piece suits?

She’d seen him naked once before, of course. Lucifer hardly missed the chance to show off his physique. And yet, she’d never quite paid attention to the curves and dips of his arms. In truth, it was difficult to marvel at his form when she could still feel the slip and slide of him inside her as he walked toward his grand piano, like she’d asked.

“Holy hell, you’re really going to do it,” she said in disbelief as he settled her on top of the sleek, glossy surface of his instrument.

“I told you, love,” he said, kissing her forehead. “ _Anything_ you desire. Name it and it’s yours.”

Lucifer kissed her then, towering over her when he stood. He slipped out of her then and she felt his release drip down her skin. She could not help the whine she emitted at the loss of him. Their arousal dripped from her wet lips and from his still hard cock that now sprung free, pearlescent and plentiful, onto the lid that covered the piano keys but neither of them cared.

He earned a whimper from her when she felt his tongue stroke up from her chin to her lower lip, seeking entrance to her mouth. Chloe felt as if she would never, ever tire of being kissed like this. Raw and pure and _wonderful_.

“ _Lucifer,_ ” she moaned.

He grinned into the kiss. His hands, he’d kept just by her waist; one travelled south of her, his thumb quickly finding her clit. His touch made her gasp and her throw her head back. He felt her nails dig into his arms. He kept an arm around her to keep her steady as his fingers moved with dexterity along her wet folds, her clit. Kisses then moved from her lips, to her jaw, down to her neck, and up to her ear again in an endless, delicious loop.

“I cannot wait to taste you, darling,” he whispered.

Chloe forgot every word she’d ever known. Her words were reduced to single vowels and she hummed them, moaned them as he continued his exploration of her.

His kisses went further and further down her body. By the time he’d reached to suck on her nipples once more, she heard the click beneath her as he lifted the piano’s lid up with one hand, while the other continued to service the slick skin between her legs. Lucifer kept trailing his way down with slow, deliberate kisses. All she could do was breathe heavily, heart racing in her chest.

The way she was sat on his piano, with the way they were, anyone could have come up to his penthouse and this would have been the first scene they saw once the lift’s doors opened. Somehow, the idea only spurred her on.

‘ _Let them know he’s taken,_ ’ she thought. ‘ _He’s mine now. Finally._ ’

Chloe hummed at the thought as he kept on in his descent. When she felt the stubble tickle the skin of her inner thighs, she giggled at the feeling. For the life of her, she could not stop smiling. Lucifer managed to sit down on his piano bench, erection still at full attention but he chose not to pay it any heed, singularly focused on the task of giving her everything she wanted.

He did not let up when it came to his kisses and she knew he had left marks there by her thighs as well. They would bloom purple come morning light and she didn’t mind in the slightest—she didn’t care about anything else right then.

With her legs parted like a promise before him, Lucifer thought she smelled like sinful salvation. She felt like redemption—like deliverance. Like the faith of every believer in any pantheon of gods and would-be gods, and his Father Himself—and this, before him, was his own altar now.

The only higher power he had faith in was her.

When he laid his tongue flat on her lips and she called out his name in a sigh, he thought that this is what true grace felt like.

When his fingers touched the piano keys and started playing, he thought to himself this was the first time that he’d gone to praise and worship in _millennia_. The music he played was a hymn to her and his tongue on her lips was how he’d sung her praises.

Lucifer sucked on the little bundle of nerves that was her clit and she cried out from above him, loud and without restraint. He smirked into his deeds, pleased with himself, as he continued to play on the piano.

It was not a tune she would have recognised. It was a song from eons and eons ago, back before written history—back before he’d even fallen in the first place. One of the first songs he’d ever composed back in Heaven. A reflection of his innermost desires, his want of more than what Heaven could give him. And he found it now—he’d found her now.

“Lucifer,” she moaned, gripping at his hair, pulling at him in a gesture of her pleading for more. “Babe, that’s _so_ good.”

He delighted in her pleasure, happy to give her more of what she liked. His tongue slipped into her and tasted the sweetness of her arousal. How was _that_ for salt and light of the Earth, he thought to himself. She tasted like a covenant—a promise, almost, that he would never have to drown in sorrows again; from now on, she would be the only sea in his lungs.

He’d known she was a miracle but who would have thought she might make a believer of him?

And oh, he believed in _her_.

Chloe scratched at his scalp and pulled at his curls. By the noises she was making, it sounded as if she were close to rapture once more.

“Fuck sake, how many tongues do you _have?_ ” she whimpered from above him.

Lucifer chuckled darkly as he went about his feast of her. His fingers kept playing the piano—a sweet, sinful melody to mirror the symphony of his heart beat in tune with hers.

Her legs started shaking, the heels of her feel accidentally pressing on the keys on either side of him. With quick movements, he put her legs over her shoulders and she wrapped them around his head to pull him in closer. Her back started to arch as she started rising to climax. He slackened his jaw to cover her wholly into his mouth. His tongue never tired of her.

And when she came again, screaming his name as she arched her back and pushed her hips to his mouth, the space between her thighs became his own land of milk and honey.

Chloe rode out the wave of desire he gave her and he hummed happily as he devoured the prize of her pleasure still mixed with his on his lips.

Slowly, he crept back up her body with another journey of kisses, never tiring of the taste of her skin. He closed the lid on his piano and his hands replaced the cool touch of ivory for the heat of her flesh. He reached her lips again and she kissed him in thanks, tasting the honey and salt of their arousal on his lips, with her tongue hungry for so much more. He kissed her with bruising force and she moaned at the feel and taste of his tongue mingling with hers.

“I love you,” she whispered between kisses, still smiling with those full, kiss-swollen lips of hers. “Missed you.”

He returned the expression of bliss on her face though he knew that his body was starved for more of her. “I missed you more, Chloe.”

“I can’t feel my legs,” she said, laughter in her breathless tone.

“That’s the idea,” he teased, panting all the same.

Before she knew it, she was lifted into his arms again. When her back met the wall, she grunted at the second of pain but Lucifer was quick to replace that with the sensation of his lips back at her neck, mercilessly sucking on her skin and biting down on her when he felt like it.

He had her pinned against the wall just by the entrance to his bedroom where his bed laid pristine and inviting. But not yet, not yet…

His hands held her steady as they wrapped around his waist without much strength, still limp and buzzing from the last orgasm he gave her. He didn’t mind—that was the point, after all, but it kept his hands steadily beneath her thighs to hoist her up.

Chloe felt him hard and erect against her clit, so solid and unrelenting, and while she was already definitely sore and hypersensitive from the pleasure, she found that her muscles were clenching at the feeling of him so close to her. Her body already yearning for what it had lost.

“Miss you,” she whispered to his ear, her hand at his curly, dampened hair, as he kissed her neck still. “I miss you inside me.”

Lucifer moaned into her skin at her words, rolling his hips up against her and having her feel his erection against where she found herself still wet and throbbing for him.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” he said, rising to meet her lips with quick, sloppy kisses. He carried an easy smile on his face, despite the strain of his erection, pearlescent arousal leaking from the tip. “Can’t have you wanting on my watch.”

With a kiss and with great dexterity, he managed to align himself with her while holding her firmly against the wall. After all, she hardly weighed a thing to his strength and yet he felt the power of her in his arms all the same.

Lucifer moaned loudly when he entered her again. She was tighter than before and yet more accommodating of him this time. Chloe panted, tears coming to her eyes as sweat beaded down the side of her face. She choked on a breath and swallowed it down as he loved her, thrusting deep and swift.

“ _Harder,_ ” she whimpered, clutching on to him.

She buried her face into the crook of his neck and moaned upon his skin, licking at him and kissing where she could reach. He did as she asked, giving her more strength from his hips and she bit him when he did, muffling the sound of her scream with his skin between her teeth.

He moaned her name over and over again as he made love to her against the wall, a hymn of her praises. “Darling, you feel so _fucking_ wonderful.”

“Fuck,” she said in return. “More,” she whined. “Give me _more._ ”

When he felt her legs tighten around his waist, he knew he was close. He pressed her harder against the wall, the rough surface scratching at her skin but she didn’t complain. The feeling of his warm, soft skin on hers and the contrast of the cool, rough wall behind her did wonders for the intensity of the pleasure he was giving her.

Lucifer pulled out almost all the way before he entered her again, and again, and again. He did this with increasing intensity, never once faltering or slipping out of her entirely. To her, it felt immaculate to have him like this.

Her fingernails scratched at his scalp, at his back, at his arms. He felt his hand press low on her torso, just below her belly, and with his thumb, he pressed and drew circles on her clit as his cock gave her what she wanted. When he buried himself so deep that he hit that spot inside her again, she gasped out his name.

“Lucifer, there!” she called out. “Right there, _right there—!_ ”

She mewled and pleaded for him to keep going, to not stop. Her legs tightened around him even more as if to say faster, harder, deeper. He gave her all of that and more.

“Chloe, darling, I’m so close,” he murmured into her. “I’m—”

“Don’t stop,” she begged, panting and her voice was sinfully high. “ _Don’t stop._ ”

“ _Chloe—_ ”

“Keep going, baby, keep going—”

She felt the tingling tightness grow beneath her belly as he kept on. His thrusts became erratic, though still deliciously and punishingly hard, and when he came inside her, he practically roared. Lucifer threw his head back as his release came over him, his thighs shaking and his knees buckling at the force of it, and he bucked inside her.

Chloe grinned at the sight of his orgasm, cooing for him to keep going, and as he pumped his release inside of her, the pressure of his fingers on his clit furiously fast, she came again—his name on her lips. Her legs gave out and if he were not holding her up, she would have fallen flat on her face.

She fought to keep her eyes open after that, sweat on her lashes now, and she saw that clumps of his usually impeccably styled hair had stuck to the skin of his forehead with sweat. It curled just so and it made him look _adorable_.

“Come here,” she said, pulling his face to her for a kiss.

Even _he_ was breathless from that orgasm that all he could do was return her kisses without grace or poise. Her skin was damp with sweat, and so was his, and her lungs heaved as if she’d just run a marathon. Or had been well and thoroughly fucked by the goddamned Devil himself—which she had.

“Take me to bed,” she whispered to him.

“Chloe Decker, do you want _more?_ ” he managed to ask, eyes shining bright with heat but darkened still with lust. His dimples looked so much more prominent when he smiled like that. She grinned.

“Give me a minute and I will,” she said with a laugh.

He chuckled, resting his forehead against hers as he took laborious breath after breath, trying to remember how to walk again. He slipped out of her as he softened, their arousal then dripping down to his legs and to the floor as he did. No doubt that he had a few more in him left – there were certain benefits to being a celestial being, after all – but even he needed to recover from _that_.

From _her_.

As it was, he managed to bounce her back into balance in his arms and he walked them to his bed. He laid her down on fresh sheets and she luxuriated in the feeling of them beneath her too sensitive, too hyperaware skin—so silky, soft, and smooth to the touch that she had to moan as soon as she made contact with the mattress.

“I’m making that my ringtone,” he murmured as he nuzzled into neck, crawling on top of her.

“Nobody does ringtones anymore, Lucifer,” she muttered as she tried to slide to the centre of his bed. He followed.

“I’ll adjust my settings,” he said, nipping at her earlobe. “Don’t test the Devil when I’m trying to seduce you, darling.”

“We are _way_ past seduction at this point, don’t you think?”

“Hardly. The courting doesn’t stop just because you’ve said yes,” he said, hands exploring her body with slow gliding movements along her skin, soft and sweet pressure from his palm to make her feel it. “I intend to make you say yes every bloody day for the rest of your life. And so forth.”

“ _Lucifer,_ ” she whispered. “Luce, babe, I—”

He reached between her legs then, pressure on her folds, and she gasped. Whined. Arched her back and shivered. Her heels dragged the sheets beneath her as her body responded to him still—exhausted and worn, but still starving, still electric, still _alive_.

“Bloody love you like this,” he said, tickling the skin of her legs with his toes as he dragged them up her skin. Every part of him, he used to please her. “I love _you._ ”

His lips met hers again in a slow, sensual kiss. A slip of the tongue, here and there, but not quite as deepened. His fingers were deliberate against her, coaxing out her arousal again—unhurried. She might even say it was arrogant. But she could not quite bring herself to speak on it when he was kissing her like that. The feel of his stubble against her skin made her feel weak in the knees and she shivered.

Lucifer Morningstar was temptation made flesh, made mortal, made _man_ —she knew that, and yet there was no guilt in her desire of him. It came upon her so effortlessly, so naturally—how could this possibly be a sin when it felt so much like what Heaven could be… what she _wanted_ Heaven to be. With every push of his hands, her body responded on instinct and in kind, and they moved together like gravity itself was pulling at their motions.

And that was the thing about gravity, she supposed—it never needed a reason why.

She sighed when he slipped in a finger and curled it deep inside her. Her body convulsed in response beneath him and he smirked wickedly as he planted a quick kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Did this this morning,” she managed to breathe out. “Wished it was you.”

With the tip of his tongue, he flicked a lick to her full lips and grinned. “If you’re ever in the mood, call me _any_ time. I’m happy to be your booty call whenever you desire it.”

Chloe laughed, a grin blooming on her face, and that was exactly the moment he slipped in a second and third finger inside her. The smile turned to an open mouth and a gasp. She had to swallow down the ‘ _oh my God_ ’ that convention had taught her but she knew better than to bring Him into this bed.

Instead, she said, “ _Lucifer._ ”

He’d known for a while that he would never tire of hearing her say his name like that. His chosen name for himself, the identity he’d crafted from a punishment he did not quite think he really deserved. This is who he wanted to be—this was who he is. And Chloe Decker loved him; that was all he needed.

He moved his fingers in and out of her with a certain relish. His thumb found her clit and he drew patterns on it with a dexterity that should not have surprised her, but it did. She had never been loved like this before—and, she supposed, that no one could ever love her quite like this again after him.

If she had anything to say about it, there would _be_ no after him for her.

“Luce, sweetie—”

“I am _loving_ your pet name choices, darling,” he said, delighted and smug.

“Stop ruining it.”

With that, he curled his fingers inside her again.

It made her cry out and practically jump up from the bed. His weight pressed her down. She folded her knees up, the soles of her feet dragging beneath the sheets as he continued to pleasure her with his fingers.

“Want you,” she hummed, barely audible. “I want you.”

He dropped his head to her neck, his lips finding her pulse and sucking on it as she reached for him between his legs. His cock was only just starting to come back to life and at her touch, it twitched and he groaned into the pillow beneath her.

“Fuck, Chloe,” he whined as she stroked him—sticky and half hard in her hand. He pushed his fingers inside her as far as they would go and she moaned at the feeling.

“Deeper,” she asked. “Want you _deeper._ ”

“Keep at it, love,” he said, withdrawing his fingers from her. Chloe kept stroking his cock, feeling him grow harder in her hand by the second.

Lucifer made a show of sucking his fingers, coated in the film of her arousal for him with remnants of his own in patches of it. Before he could suck on his middle finger, however, she reached up for his hand, and sucked him clean of her instead. The shape of her lips around his finger made him think of what she would look like with his cock in her mouth—which was exactly her intention, with the intensity of the way she looked at him with those sinfully dark blue eyes. He felt her tongue run flat on his skin and he stared, open mouthed, at the sight of her like that. She didn’t break eye contact with him once and she held his attention right there.

“Did you dream of that too?”

Chloe smiled with her eyes and took in his whole finger in her mouth. Slowly, she started to pull away—she matched the speed in which she sucked his finger by the speed in which she stroked his cock from the balls up. By the time she got to the tip of his finger, she gave it a little cheeky bite and a full grin. She swiped the tip of him with her thumb and she reached up and licked it off.

“What do _you_ think?” she teased.

“ _Fuck,_ ” was all he could say, staring at her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. Her grin was _everything_ he wanted.

He’d grown fully erect at that display. With short kisses down from her neck, he sucked at the skin between her breasts in a way that he knew would leave even more marks. She would be covered in them come morning—which was exactly by design. He couldn’t wait to see his work but he enjoyed the process nonetheless. Lucifer brought himself back up and rested his forehead on hers.

They locked eyes for a moment and he let himself freeze there for a second.

“You trust me, my love?” he whispered.

“With everything,” she replied just as softly.

“Turn around,” he said, his hands at her hips. Her eyes went wide.

“Lucifer, I’m not r—”

“No, not that. Not yet,” he said. “Don’t you worry. It’ll feel good for you, I promise.”

Chloe looked him in the eye, paused, and then nodded. With significant effort, she managed to roll over to lay on her belly. Above her, Lucifer didn’t waste any time as he brushed her long, blonde hair away from her back and he kissed the nape of her neck and he trailed his sweet, long kisses down the length of her spine. She rested her cheek on the pillow and let him worship her with his kisses.

Then, she felt the loss of his presence just behind her and he his hands pull her hips up. Her knees pressing on the bed, her ass up in the air for him, she worried that he might go there—anal was not quite on the table yet for her. But he asked her to trust him, so she did. He wouldn’t go there without asking, she knew that.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said and she felt his hand press against the base of her spine, gently pushing down to ease her tense muscles.

Lucifer positioned himself behind her and she felt the tip of him just by her overheated, sensitive folds.

“Oh shit,” she managed to say. He chuckled as he eased in the tip of his cock home inside her.

In the time they’ve spent together now, she thought she’d grown accustomed to the way he felt inside her. But this angle was something else entirely. Something new. Something wonderful. Something sacred, sinful, and unholy.

Her brain practically short-circuited when he buried himself to the hilt inside of her from behind.

Chloe gasped as turned her head to scream into the pillow. She bit it, muffling her loud groans, as he thrust inside her from the back. Her thighs, her knees—they were shaking. His hands firmly held her by the waist and he kept pushing inside of her from that angle. She thought she might fucking pass out—which had never happened before. Never had she ever been fucked so well and truly good that she would pass out from an orgasm.

Her hips met his pace, slow and steady at first but growing steadily more rapid. Harder and deeper as his pace started to quicken. Again, she was rendered at a loss for words but she missed the feeling of him so close to her. As good as it felt to have him from behind, she missed his heat—his lips.

“Wait, wait,” she said, reaching from behind her. Her hand managed to reach for his hands and he stopped immediately. She felt him start to pull out of her. “No, no. Stay there.” He raised a brow that she could not see, tilting his head as he tried to figure out what she wanted. “Just lean into me. Come here.”

He did as she bid, covering her frame with his, and when he was close enough, she kissed him for a long while, slipping him her tongue, and he moaned into her lips.

“Can you keep going from here?” she asked. “I want you close.”

“Of course, darling.”

Lucifer, now hunched over her, left kisses on her neck, her back. She reached for his arm that was pulling her to him and he kept up his pace inside her, but now so much closer to her. Chloe was screaming her moans beneath him, on the point of near collapse. He kept a hand by her hips but his other roamed to her breasts, rolling and pinching at her nipples.

She chanted his name, over and over again, like a prayer. Like a spell. What he was doing to her, after all, was pure fucking magic.

In her life, the most she’d ever gotten from sexual partners was three orgasms in the span of a whole night—and that was on her honeymoon and only ever on her honeymoon since. And yet, here he was, coaxing out her… she’d lost count of how many he’d already given her and at that point, she didn’t know when one orgasm started and the next one began. And while he panted into her and caught his breath just the same, he didn’t seem to be tiring of any time soon.

“Chloe,” he moaned into her ear, sucking on her earlobe from behind.

“Pull my hair,” she asked and he complied, the hand that was servicing her breasts then reaching up to her blonde locks, grasp with just enough pressure for pleasurable pain, and pulled her head back just so. It gave him more room to kiss at her neck while he continued his manic, powerful thrusts into her from behind.

She knew she was sore between her legs but he felt so good, slipping in and out of her the way he did. Her ass met his hips in sync to his thrusts and the sound of slapping skin that they made only aroused her more.

The knowing tightness returned to her, pleasure pooling almost painfully between her legs, and she started to squirt in between his thrusts. Lucifer didn’t stop, knowing that the noises she was making meant that she was close to that high again.

“That’s it,” he coaxed. “That’s my girl. That’s it.”

He let go of her hair and reached down to rub at her clit. His hands and the sheets coated in her arousal. She dropped her hands to the pillow and clutched them until her knuckles turned white. Chloe pushed up against him, wanting that sweet friction from him.

“I’m—” she keened. “I’m going to—”

Her legs gave out from under her as she came again, loud, trying to catch her breath, but this time, Lucifer gave her no room to breathe.

He flipped her over and her head met the pillow with sudden force. He quickly brushed her hair away from her face. Spreading her practically boneless legs for him, he entered her again and she arched her back—she was still riding the wave of that last orgasm, she felt too tight.

Chloe choked back a sob. “Luce—Lucifer, baby, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he said, pressing her down hard as he made love to her.

She did not want him to stop and yet, her entire body felt as if it were about to combust. All life as she knew it, she felt, were stopping instantaneously, and she felt like every molecule in her body was bursting at the speed of light—total protonic _fucking_ reversal.

Lucifer pushed at her thighs and had her spreading her legs wider. Pliant to his touch, she followed where he pushed, and she was babbling out nonsense that she could not quite understand. Most of it was some attempt to moan out his name but it kept getting disturbed, her breath kept hitching in her throat.

“So good,” he muttered as he continued on his punishing pace. “So _fucking_ good, Chloe, darling.”

“K-keep doing that,” she managed to say. “Talk to me. Want to hear your voice.”

Lucifer drove into her hard and her hips matched his pace, despite how exhausted her limbs were—despite how her vision already started to blur. His knees dug deep into his mattress and all around them, the mattress whined at the pressure of their activity upon it.

Bodies electric, Chloe and her wanton cries underneath him—he could barely breathe. He felt as though time around him had slowed and the only thing he could think of and see and feel was her—she was the sole creature in the entire goddamn scope of things in the entire universe that mattered.

Her legs were shaking and he kept his hands firm at her waist. He was getting close again, he could feel it near bursting inside of him—the tightness by his balls, the strain on his cock. He felt his wings burst out and unfurl from behind him and Chloe could only scream and tightened around him. The wings helped press her down even more into the bed.

“So tight around me, darling,” he whispered to her ear, sultry and soft despite how hard and fast and deep he was going. “So warm and wet inside you.” He licked at her neck, tasting the sweet salt of her sweat. “So perfect. So _bloody_ perfect.”

He kissed her forehead. “Fucking _divine._ ”

He kissed _her_.

Hard.

He pressed his body closer to her as he buried himself inside her as deep as he could. Her lips had forgotten how to move so he captured her lower lip between his teeth and suckled on them as he moved. Her fingernails scraped at his arms, at a loss for what to do. Each flutter of his wings made her overheated skin feel cool. Her blue eyes had a glossy, faraway look on them—as if she were close to entering another plane of reality.

“I love you, Chloe,” he prayed to her. “I love you _so_ much.”

Their blood turned to fire in their veins—pure, liquid starlight. It remembered the very first parts of them that knew each other from that first day when there was light and that was all there was. The First Law of Thermodynamics stated that energy could not be changed—only transformed. It was only then logical that in their atoms still held the memory of that first light.

Now, as they reached that simultaneous supernova of the senses, Lucifer brought her back to that state in the first darkness. To nothing at all.

And then, there was light.

And it was him.

It was always going to be him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Chloe Jane Decker passed out after that.

She’d woken about an hour after that sex-induced coma and found his smug, smiling face beaming down at her as she blinked away the exhaustion from her eyelids. Her limbs thrummed with electricity and seeing him look so fucking pleased with himself made her want to roll her eyes and laugh. So, she did.

“I told you I’d be _good_ ,” he said.

“You’re not human,” she teased, her throat sore and her voice husky.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Because I’m not.”

“How was I?” she asked, softly spoken.

“ _Magnificent,_ ” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “1 out of 1 would definitely recommend.”

“Just _one?_ ”

“Do you _really_ think I’m ever going to let anyone else in on this?”

She was still wearing the bullet necklace. Well, seems as if they’ve both penetrated each other now. Lucifer’s smile turned into a full-blown, wicked grin.

“You should have tried harder to get me here if you were going to be that good,” she said.

“Darling, we’ve barely scratched the surface,” he said. Chloe snuggled in closer to him, head resting on his smooth, bare chest. He played with her hair absentmindedly. “You should probably go the bathroom, though.”

She made a noise of complaint. “Oh right. Yeah.”

Chloe rose to get up and the bones of her back crackled and popped. She stretched it out and her muscles whined at the sudden movement. In the dim light of the morning just before dawn, barely lit by the lights still on at his bar, he saw the beginning of darkened bruises on her skin where his lips and hands had been. He smirked at the sight.

When she tried to swing her legs over the bed and stand up, she nearly fell over. “Oh fuck.”

Lucifer didn’t even try to hide the chortle as he watched. Chloe threw him a look, smiling but a twinkling mischief in her eye. “Yeah, try not to be too pleased with yourself.”

“Shan’t!” he teased in a sing-song voice. She laughed.

He watched her wobble her way to his bathroom to relieve herself. And when she came back and settled to his side beneath his defiled sheets, she fell back to sleep rather quickly, exhaustion making their home in her bones.

Outside, the breeze blew into his penthouse and quiet settled over them. Outside, California slept soundly. Even the nightclubs were spent for the night and the city was dark, quiet, and at peace.

As Chloe made herself comfortable in his arms and slept soundly, Lucifer looked up at his ceiling. He licked his lips, heart hammering in his chest. And in the quiet, he started to pray.

“Dad…” he said softly. “I know I haven’t ever been the son You always wanted. And I’m _still_ not Your biggest fan, let’s make that perfectly clear. And I’ve… I’ve reviled You and I’ve cursed You and…”

She stirred in his embrace as she slept. He held her closer to him.

“Look, the point is… we’ve got our issues, You and I, and we’re always going to have our issues,” he said, looking back up at the sky, facing his Father. Praying for the first time since he got shot and died for the first time. He thought of Raziel, somehow, and knew that this had been something she wanted for him all along. And he said, “But _just for tonight_ , I—please, I just—”

Part of him wanted to beg—beg his Father to not take her and this away from him. To let him stay in this bliss, this bespoke Eden for all the rest of time.

Yet he knew that this, right then, would always belong to him. Not even God could take this moment in time away from him. And Raziel said that no one could predict the future—and that, as time was in constant flux thanks to the free will of humans, was a comfort in itself.

He could not always protect her—but he swore to himself then that he would love her through it all. In good times and in bad, for better and for worse.

And so, he said the only thing that could come to mind.

“Thank You,” he prayed to God. “Thank You for _her_.”

Lucifer fell asleep shortly after. The pair of them, exhausted, would not rise for another few hours—closer to noon than anything and they would enjoy each other once again. Leave more marks, plant more kisses.

But as they slept, the breeze continued to flit in – as the sun started to rise, a single card flew in and settled on top of the piano.

A tarot card with its back painted in starlight.

On it were The Lovers, now painted in the likeness of an angel—and the devil who loved her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell now. Your comments make me immeasurably happy.
> 
> Also, you can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/owedbetter_) if you'd like to connect. 
> 
> Now real talk, when the _fuck_ is Pierce going to get yeeted into the Sun? I'm waiting.


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